Author: Momo Chan

1 I was about to cross the Atlantic with the life-saving matched targeted drug when my husband’s ex-wife suddenly rushed into the aisle. With red eyes, she flashed the international distress signal, thumb tucked inside a clenched fist, to the air marshal. My mother-in-law was clinging to life in the ICU. To seize the golden three-hour window for her surgery, I fought tooth and nail to protect the medical cooler, shoving the ex-wife into the lavatory and locking her in. I didn’t waste a single second delivering the drug to the operating room. We pulled my mother-in-law back from the brink of death. But because she was arrested for filing a false report and endangering aviation safety, my husband’s ex-wife sank into depression and took her own life in prison. On the day my mother-in-law was discharged, my husband lured me to the rooftop of the hospital and pushed me off without a shred of hesitation. “Seraphina was just too kind! She was only worried about everyone’s safety on that flight! How could you treat her like a terrorist?” I shattered onto the pavement below. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the cabin, with the air marshal’s baton drawn, closing in on me. This time, I didn’t struggle. I knelt, hands over my head, cooperating fully. “Officer, I suspect this box might be dangerous too. For everyone’s safety, please run a full bomb threat check immediately!” Whatever. Once we land, the person rotting in the ICU waiting for a surgery that will never happen isn’t my mother anyway. The air marshal pinned me against the cabin wall, my arms twisted painfully behind my back. That was the moment I knew I had actually traveled back in time. My husband, Oliver, was shielding Seraphina, his face painted with protective tenderness. “Don’t be scared, Seraphina. I’m right here. You’re safe.” Dressed in a pristine white maxi dress, Seraphina shrank behind Oliver like a startled fawn. Under the air marshal’s wary gaze, she pointed a trembling finger at the thermal cooler clutched in my arms, tears streaming down her face. “Officer, she has hazardous material! She’s trying to kill everyone on this plane! I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I had to speak up!” The marshal’s expression hardened. He radioed for backup and snapped a plastic zip-tie around my wrists, shoving me rough against the paneling. I took a deep breath, keeping my voice deadpan. “Officer, this is a misunderstanding. I flew to Boston to collect matched targeted stem-cell drugs. This cooler contains life-saving medication for my mother-in-law in London. It’s not a bomb.” The officer stared at me, eyes filled with deep suspicion. In my past life, my mother-in-law had been genuinely kind to me, so a part of me still wanted her to survive. “Officer, she’s been placed on life support, and the hospital has issued three critical condition notices. Please inspect it quickly. If the temperature seal is compromised for too long, she won’t survive the night.” Hearing this, Oliver instantly barked at me: “Cut the crap, Gemma! The doctor literally called ten minutes ago and said Mom’s stable in the ICU! You’ve been acting like a manic wreck this entire trip, and now you’re cursing my own mother to die?” Seraphina’s eyes flickered. Seizing the moment, she adopted an expression of deep, sorrowful realization. “Did you hear that, Officer? His mother is perfectly fine, yet she’s putting on this frantic, life-or-death act! Look at how wild her eyes are. She’s definitely hiding something malicious! I can’t let any potential threat to innocent lives slip by!” Staring at the security guard’s taser, I didn’t scream, cry, or lose my mind like I did in my previous life. Instead, I calmly walked with the airport security team to the screening room to undergo a thorough inspection. Half an hour later. I presented every single prescription, purchase receipt, and international medical permit. After verifying the documents, the lead officer gave Seraphina a harsh, stern lecture on the legal consequences of making false reports and disrupting public order. Seraphina’s eyes welled with tears, but her jaw remained stubborn. “Officer, I only did it for everyone’s safety! What if there really was a threat and no one had the courage to speak up? Even if I’m misunderstood, I will always choose to protect people!” The officer rolled his eyes, a gesture completely lost on Seraphina. Before leaving, she didn’t forget to bow deeply to the exhausted security team, her voice dripping with sweet, angelic sincerity. “Thank you for keeping us safe, officers. You work so hard to fight crime. Please take good care of yourselves!” Once we stepped out of the security office, Oliver didn’t blame her at all. He pulled her into a comforting embrace and glared at me. “Gemma, what’s with the attitude? Seraphina is fragile. She only reported you because she was genuinely terrified! It’s your own fault for acting so sketchy and scaring her in the first place!” I looked at his self-righteous face and spoke in a flat tone. “Oliver, because of your ‘precautionary measures,’ our flight has already taken off without us.” 2 To catch the next available flight, we had to sprint through the massive airport terminal. I ran at the front, clutching the medical cooler. Seraphina, in her long white dress, stumbled behind, panting heavily. “Gemma… why are you running so fast… wait for me…” I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to glare at the lagging couple. “Why am I running? Because of you! We had plenty of time on the way to the airport. But you just had to spot a dead stray cat on the curb, force the driver to pull over, dig a grave, and hold a mini-funeral for it! You wasted thirty minutes!” “And then you pulled that stunt with security! If we don’t run now, we’ll miss this flight too. Do you actually want to save Oliver’s mother or not?” Hit where it hurt, Seraphina’s tears cascaded instantly. She clutched Oliver’s sleeve, looking utterly devastated. “Oliver, I’m so sorry… I just can’t stand to see animals suffer. Every life is equal, even a stray cat’s… How can Gemma be so heartless…” Oliver’s heart melted. He shielded Seraphina behind him and snapped at me with absolute irritation. “Gemma, that’s enough! The doctors said Mom is stable! What are you rushing for?” “Seraphina has the heart of a saint. She can’t stand seeing animals hurt. What did she do wrong? She’s willing to put herself on the line for others, while you’ve been acting like a bulldozer this entire trip!” I let out a cold laugh. “Oliver, the person we are flying to save is your mother.” “You think I don’t know that?!” Oliver snarled. “If she’s my mother, why are you rushing like the grim reaper is chasing us? Are you hoping she dies?!” I shut my mouth, refusing to waste another breath on this hopeless idiot, and boarded the plane. Of course, once we got on, Seraphina found another way to cause a scene. Her assigned seat was across the aisle from us, but she insisted on swapping seats with a passenger, demanding to sit right between Oliver and me. “I can’t. I’ll panic if I sit alone. I need to be next to Oliver…” The flight attendant tried to explain the seating policy, but Seraphina refused to budge, standing in the aisle with tear-filled eyes. Eventually, amid the annoyed groans of the surrounding passengers, Oliver stepped in to guilt-trip the poor passenger next to me until they finally gave up their seat. Sitting triumphantly between us, she wrapped her arm around Oliver’s, casting a smug, provocative glance my way. I didn’t even give her a second look. I slipped on my sleep mask and leaned back. Because of all these delays, the window for my mother-in-law’s surgery had shrunk to almost nothing. 3 Once the plane reached cruising altitude, we hit a pocket of turbulence. The cabin jolted violently. Beep The medical cooler in my lap let out a faint, high-pitched mechanical hum as its internal cooling system adjusted to the vibration. Hearing the beep, Seraphina, who had been secretly watching me the whole time, flinched. It was as if some loose wire in her brain had suddenly sparked. “Oh my god! No!” She threw off her blanket and leaped up like a lunatic, pointing a trembling finger at the cooler in my arms, screaming hysterically. “That’s a bomb timer, isn’t it?! That’s why you lied about his mom dying! That’s why you were acting so desperate to smuggle this box onto the plane!” “No! I won’t let you do this! Everyone, run!” She lunged at me. Her sudden shriek instantly jolted the dozing passengers awake. Seraphina pinned me down, sobbing uncontrollably as she made her dramatic accusation to the crowd. “I get it! You’re jealous because Oliver has been looking after me during this trip! You think he still loves me! You let your jealousy turn into hatred, and now you want to blow up the plane and take everyone down with you!” She wept beautifully, looking like a tragic saint willing to sacrifice herself for humanity. “But Gemma, these passengers are innocent! If you hate me, I’ll beg the captain to open the cabin door right now! I’ll jump! I’ll give my life to save everyone else, just please spare Oliver and these innocent people!” Terrified out of their wits by her theatrical performance, the passengers panicked. They scrambled away from us, screaming for the flight crew. “Jesus! A bomb?! Where is security?!” “Search her box! Don’t let her touch anything!” And Oliver, the absolute moron, was moved to tears by Seraphina’s selflessness. He threw his arms around her to protect her, staring at me in sheer disbelief. “You actually put a bomb in that box just to get back at us?! Are you insane?! Even if you hate Seraphina, how could you risk the lives of an entire flight? You are a monster!” I held onto the cooler tightly. “Are you out of your mind? You know exactly what’s in here! It’s your mother’s targeted medication! It must be kept under sterile, temperature-controlled conditions. If we break the seal and expose it to cabin air, the formula will be ruined!” “Stop lying!” Oliver bellowed. “It’s just a quick look! How could looking at it ruin the medicine? The more you hide it, the guiltier you look! Did you swap the medicine for a bomb when we weren’t looking?!” Faced with a cabin full of hostile, screaming passengers, I calmly pulled a thick folder of documents from my bag and handed it to the lead flight attendant. “These are the purchase certificates from the lab in Boston, along with the customs clearance and medical transport permits for both countries. You can verify them. Security would never have cleared a bomb.” The flight attendant carefully inspected the paperwork, letting out a massive sigh of relief. She turned to reassure the passengers. “Please calm down, everyone. This passenger’s documentation is entirely legitimate. The noise was just the standard cooling cycle of her medical equipment.” As the tension dissolved, the passengers’ fear quickly curdled into disgust. They glared at Seraphina. “What is wrong with her? Making up a whole conspiracy theory out of nowhere!” “Nearly gave me a heart attack. What a psycho.” Seraphina panicked as the crowd turned on her. She shrank into Oliver’s arms, whimpering, “Oliver, I was only trying to protect everyone. I would never let anyone harm a single soul. Not even Gemma…” Oliver turned his wrath on me. “Gemma, look what you’ve done! Are you happy now that everyone is ganging up on Seraphina?! If you had just shown the paperwork earlier, none of this would have happened!” Just as the flight attendant was about to ask Seraphina to return to her seat, Seraphina suddenly covered her ears and let out an even louder, more blood-curdling shriek. “No! I heard it again! The beep! The bomb is about to go off!!!” 4 “Help! Someone help!” Right on the heels of Seraphina’s piercing scream, a frantic cry for help erupted from a few rows back. An elderly man, who had already looked pale, had been frightened into cardiac arrest by Seraphina’s screaming. He was convulsing, clutching his chest, and collapsing into the aisle. “My dad has a heart condition! Is there a doctor?!” the man’s son sobbed in sheer terror. The cabin descended into utter chaos. The crew frantically made an emergency announcement asking for any medical professionals on board, but not a single doctor or nurse was on the flight. Seraphina looked at the dying man, then felt the murderous glares of the surrounding passengers. Her eyes darted around, and she suddenly pointed a finger at the thermal cooler in my lap, shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Gemma! Since you claim it’s not a bomb but a miracle drug, save him! Use it on the old man!” “If this medicine can save Oliver’s mother, it can save him too! A life is at stake, open the box and give it to him!” I was nearly laughing at her brainless logic. “Seraphina, this is a targeted therapy drug specifically designed for organ failure, not a magical potion! He is having an acute myocardial infarction. The pharmacology is completely different. If you inject him with targeted stem-cell therapy, you’ll kill him even faster!” But Seraphina wouldn’t back down. She dropped to her knees in the aisle, unleashing her favorite weapon: moral extortion. “You’re just selfish! You don’t want to save him, or maybe you’re just terrified of opening that box! If there isn’t a bomb inside, why are you so desperate to keep it closed?!” “You would rather watch an old man die right in front of us than lend a hand! How can you be so cruel? If it were my medicine, I would have given it up in a heartbeat!” I ignored the lunatic and turned to Oliver, my eyes colder than ice. “Oliver, do you really want me to open this box? I am warning you one last time. The moment we break this seal, the drug is completely ruined. This is your mother’s life we are talking about.” Before Oliver could speak, Seraphina leaned weakly against his shoulder, whimpering softly. “Oliver… Gemma is so cruel… Just to protect her petty pride, she’d rather watch this poor man die and use your mother’s name to threaten you…” Slap! A sharp, stinging blow struck my cheek. My head jerked to the side, my skin burning with sudden pain. Oliver retracted his hand, pointing a trembling finger at my face as he yelled. “Gemma, I’ve had enough of you! The entire trip, it’s always ‘your mother this’ and ‘your mother that’! You’ve done nothing but curse my mom! I know you don’t give a damn about her. You’re just using her condition to make things difficult for Seraphina!” He pulled Seraphina protectively against his chest, puffing his own out with self-righteous anger. “Seraphina literally quit her job and fasted to pray for my mother’s health. She even flew out to Boston with me! What did you do? You just stood there acting smug and holding this stupid box!” Seraphina shed a tear, pressing her hands together like a devout saint. “Oliver, saving a life brings good karma. It’s a blessing for your mother. If she knew we saved this man, God would surely look down on her with mercy.” “Did you hear that?!” Brainwashed to the core, Oliver roared at me. “Open the damn box and save him! If anything happens, I’ll take the blame!” I touched my swollen cheek, and a cold, dark smile spread across my face. Years ago, when my mother-in-law had forced them to divorce, she had held my hand and told me that Seraphina’s toxic martyrdom would eventually destroy their entire family. How prophetic those words were. “Fine. Remember, you asked for this.” I’m sorry, Mom, I thought. No matter how much I wanted to save you, your own son wouldn’t let me. I handed the sealed thermal cooler to the hovering flight attendant. “Miss, since the family of the patient is demanding it, please open the box in front of everyone.” Desperate to defuse the cabin panic and check for any threat, the flight attendant quickly grabbed a pair of shears. A sharp click echoed through the quiet cabin. The sterile seal of the cooler was broken. The passengers held their breath. The old man’s son leaned forward, eyes wide with desperate hope. Oliver eagerly reached out his hand, eyes fixed on the opening lid. “Quick, give me the medicine…” But his voice died in his throat. His hand froze mid-air. The entire cabin stared into the box, and a collective gasp of horror rippled through the passengers. Oliver slowly turned to me, his eyes bloodshot, and let out a wild, frenzied scream. “Gemma!!! What the hell is this?! Where is my mother’s medicine?!”

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1 “My husband is a vindictive, hot-tempered, incredibly petty piece of work.” “He loves throwing hands when he is angry. If he finds out I lost his phone, he is going to absolutely murder me!” The girl on the other end of the line was ugly-crying so hard she was practically snorting, and the sheer terror in her voice made me shiver. “He… he actually hits you?” I asked, my voice dropping. “Oh, you have no idea! He even…” Before she could finish, a cold, deep male voice sliced through the background noise. “Piper, where is my phone?” Click. The line went dead. I hastily pulled the phone away from my ear to look at the screen. Damn it. Of all the times to die, it had to run out of battery right now. 2 I had a conference to catch, and I could not afford to stand around waiting. My only option was to rush to the convention center and hunt down a portable charger. As I walked, a heavy knot of worry settled in my stomach. Had that poor girl already been hurt? I made up my mind right then. No matter who this guy was, the moment I handed the phone back, I was going to demand he delete every single photo of me. Using some random girl’s picture as his lock screen when he already had a wife? If he was not disgusted by his own behavior, I certainly was. Outside the main exhibition hall, I scanned a QR code at a charging station. While waiting for the power bank to pop out, the hushed whispers of two girls nearby caught my attention. “Did you hear? Hank is here today as a keynote speaker for the main summit!” Hearing that name, my breath caught in my throat. The other girl sighed dreamily. “Hank? No way! A titan like him actually came to this forum? It is such a shame we are stuck in the breakout sessions. The schedules overlap completely. Otherwise, even if we couldn’t hear his speech, we could have stalked the main lobby just to get a glimpse of his gorgeous face.” Clack. The power bank unlocked. I shook myself out of my daze, grabbed the charger, and plugged the phone in. Beside me, the girls had already shifted from business gossip to personal rumors. “By the way, is Hank single? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any media coverage about his private life.” “He must be. I remember reading in some old interview that he had someone he loved back in the day, but she passed away.” Hearing that, the lingering spark of interest in my chest vanished. Was the mortality rate of young women exceptionally high these days? Why did every guy seem to have a tragically deceased first love? Just then, the screen of the lost phone lit up. Before I could even swipe, a flurry of notifications flooded the screen. Ten missed calls. The phone’s GPS is active. I have locked onto your location. Contact me within ten minutes, or I am involving the police. I have filed a report. If you do not contact me immediately, you will face the consequences when the authorities show up. Please, I beg you, give my husband his phone back. He has already slapped me seven times! He is just a really aggressive guy, please don’t be angry. Just have some pity on me and pick up! The messages came from two different numbers. The first set was clearly from the owner, while the desperate pleas at the end were from the crying girl I had spoken to earlier. Judging by the texts, this man was a toxic, arrogant piece of trash. Suddenly, the phone began to ring again. I picked up, and the girl’s frantic sobbing immediately filled my ear. “Oh, thank god! Thank god you finally answered!” “I am so sorry,” I apologized quickly. “The phone died, and I just managed to find a charger. I am currently at a conference. If it’s convenient, could you come by and pick it up?” When I gave her the address, the girl gasped. “What a coincidence! We are actually right nearby. I can be there in five minutes!” To make sure we did not miss each other, I gave her my personal cell phone number as well. After hanging up, I hesitated. Before heading downstairs, I pulled out my wide-brimmed sun hat and a matching face mask from my bag. Once I was sure that only my eyes were visible, I headed toward the main lobby. As I passed the grand hall, the announcer’s voice echoed through the double doors, introducing the guest of honor. The moment the name Hank was spoken, a thunderous wave of applause erupted inside the room. Through the half-open doors, I caught a glimpse of a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit being led onto the stage by the event staff. Time seemed to freeze. In that fleeting second, I was thrown back seven years, looking at the brilliant teenager who had stood on the stage at our high school graduation, delivering the valedictorian speech. He was just as dazzling, just as impossibly out of reach. The phone in my hand buzzed, breaking the spell. “Hey, I’m at the main entrance. Where are you?” Taking a deep breath, I forced my eyes away from the stage and hurried outside. 3 Stepping through the glass doors, I immediately spotted a young woman. She looked to be in her early twenties, wearing a delicate floral dress, clutching her purse with an anxious expression. I walked up to her. “Are you Piper?” The girl’s eyes lit up, and she nodded rapidly. “Yes, that’s me!” I handed the black phone over to her. As she took it, I carefully examined her face. Her skin was flawless and fair, without a single trace of swelling or redness that would suggest she had been struck. As if reading my mind, she casually touched her cheek. “I am used to it by now. My skin has built up a tolerance, so a couple of slaps don’t really leave a mark anymore.” She quickly opened her payment app. “Is your username linked to your phone number? I want to transfer a few thousand dollars to you as a thank-you.” A few thousand? I waved my hands frantically. “No, please, there’s no need. It was just a lost phone. It didn’t take up any of my time.” “How can you say that? You have no idea how much this means to me.” She pointed at the lock screen, which still displayed my old high school photo, and offered a bittersweet smile. “See this? She is his absolute treasure. If this phone had been lost forever, I don’t even want to think about what he would have done to me.” The discomfort in my chest deepened. What a disgusting, hypocritical bastard. He abused his wife at home while running around pretending to mourn a dead girl. I had intended to tell her that the girl in the photo was actually me, but looking at her anxious face, I decided against making things more awkward. Adjusting my mask, I asked quietly, “Is your husband not with you?” “My husband? Who? Oh, right! Him,” she stammered, looking slightly flustered. “He was supposed to come, but his meeting started at the same time, so he couldn’t make it.” So I would not be seeing him today. “You should probably delete that photo for him,” I suggested gently. “Now that he is married, keeping another woman’s picture like that isn’t fair to you.” “Oh, I couldn’t do that!” She shook her head quickly. “I wouldn’t dare.” Seeing my frown, she let out a soft sigh. “What can I do? I am just a glorified placeholder anyway. He only married me because I happen to look like the girl in that photo.” I looked up, staring at the girl who was easily half a head taller than me. She had long legs, a slender waist, a sharp jawline, and perfectly styled wavy hair. I, on the other hand, was barely five-foot-four, weighed a modest hundred and ten pounds, and had a soft, round face with blunt bangs. In what universe did we look alike? After a brief silence, I asked, “If he treats you like this, why do you stay with him?” “He’s filthy rich,” she replied instantly, without a shred of hesitation. Her blunt honesty left me completely speechless. Before I could think of a response, her phone began to ring. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID on her screen: Wyatt. She picked up, her voice instantly turning meek. “I found it! Yes, I have it. I’m coming back right now.” Hanging up, she gave me an apologetic smile. “He is rushing me. Thank you so much again for today!” I waved goodbye, and she scurried off into the crowd. So, the owner of the phone was Wyatt. He was indeed my high school classmate. 4 Though Wyatt and I had not been in the same class, I remembered him clearly. Mostly because of Hank. The two of them had been inseparable childhood friends. Every day after class, Wyatt would wait outside Hank’s classroom so they could head to the cafeteria together. As the top two students who constantly dominated the academic honor roll, they were always the center of attention. Although we had rarely spoken, I remembered Wyatt as a warm, smiling guy who seemed to get along with everyone. Who could have guessed he was such a monster behind closed doors? The priority now was to get in touch with him and force him to delete my photo. But ever since my car accident in senior year and my sudden transfer, I had lost touch with everyone from that school. As I stood there trying to figure out how to contact him, my manager rushed over, looking frantic. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you in the breakout rooms. Come with me, quick!” I blinked. “What’s wrong?” “I just found out Hank is here in the main hall. Our company has been trying to pitch a partnership to his firm for months, but we could never get past his secretaries. The CEO just called and ordered me to secure a contact opportunity by any means necessary.” Securing a contact opportunity by any means necessary. That sounded exactly like the kind of desperate, half-baked plan our boss would come up with. My manager pushed me gently toward the exit of the main hall. “You’re the prettiest girl in our department. You go make the pitch.” What? Me? “No, no, I can’t do that, I…” Before I could finish protesting, the double doors swung open. Hank’s keynote had concluded. A small crowd of executives flanked him as he walked out of the auditorium. Hank walked right at the front, his expression cold and aloof, carrying an aura that practically screamed at people to keep their distance. I stared at him as he approached, just as I had watched him walk down the high school hallways a thousand times before. My heart pounded so violently I could barely breathe. Just as he was about to pass us, my manager gave me a sharp, heavy shove from behind. Off-balance and completely unprepared, I stumbled forward and crashed straight into Hank’s chest. The bustling lobby instantly went dead silent. I instinctively covered my face. Thank god my sun mask was still on. 5 Nobody knew this, but I had spent six months of my life hopelessly chasing Hank. During senior year, we had briefly been assigned as desk partners. Captivated by his quiet brilliance, I had spent every single day manufacturing excuses to ask him academic questions just to hear him speak. My final memory of him was the afternoon I had confessed my feelings, my cheeks burning with hope, only to be met with his icy glare. “I found being your desk partner incredibly annoying.” “I found your constant questions incredibly annoying.” “And now, you telling me that you like me is just as annoying.” “Grace, could you please just stay away from me?” At an age when I believed myself to be invincible, I experienced a crushing, humiliating defeat. To make matters worse, the very next morning, a speeding truck crashed into my father’s car while he was driving me to school. The injuries were severe. We were rushed to a specialist hospital in Savannah for emergency surgery. Later, as my father’s recovery required long-term follow-ups, my family decided to relocate permanently, and I finished my studies at a school in Savannah. That unrequited, humiliating confession became a dark piece of history I tried my best to bury. In the present, the man standing in front of me finally spoke, his voice low and vibrating against my hands. “How long do you plan on holding onto me?” “I am so sorry, so sorry!” Clutching my mask and keeping my head low, I scrambled backward to stand upright. Hank frowned slightly, preparing to walk away. My manager hissed from behind me, “Grace! Make the pitch! Say something!” Hank probably wanted to throw me out of the building, let alone listen to a business pitch. As I took another step back to retreat, Hank suddenly stopped and turned around, his sharp eyes locking onto me. “What is your name?” Before I could open my mouth, my manager chimed in eagerly, “Mr. Vance, her name is Grace!” With my identity exposed, I had no choice but to pull down my mask and offer a weak, awkward wave. “Hi, Hank. Long time no see. Do you remember me?” For three agonizing minutes, Hank just stared at me, completely speechless. Seeing his lack of reaction, I slowly lowered my hand, my smile freezing on my face. Trying to save some dignity, I chuckled dryly. “We went to the same high school, though I transferred out later. It’s completely normal if you don’t remember me.” Hank’s eyes were wide with a shock so profound it looked almost like disbelief. Still, he said nothing. Deciding to stop embarrassing myself, I cleared my throat. “Well, we won’t trouble you any further…” I turned to escape, but Hank’s voice suddenly cracked the silence. “Are you looking for me for something?” “No, I…” “Yes! Yes, of course!” my manager interrupted, nudging me hard. I forced myself to speak. “We were just wondering if your firm would be open to discussing a potential collaboration with our company, Apex Solutions?” He stood quiet for a long moment, as if trying to recall if such a minor company even existed. “You work at Apex? I recall their headquarters is based in Savannah?” “Yes. My father and I were hospitalized there after our accident, and my family ended up settling down in the city permanently.” “So back then… you only transferred?” “Of course.” The expression on his face turned incredibly complex. The color drained from his cheeks, leaving him looking pale and suddenly dark. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Your contact information.” “What?” “If you want to discuss a collaboration, how am I supposed to reach you without your contact info?” That actually sounded promising. I hurriedly pulled out my phone and displayed my QR code. “We can add each other here. It’s faster.” He reached into his pocket, and his expression faltered again. “I forgot my phone. Tell me your number, and I will have my assistant note it down.” Who forgot their phone in this day and age? It felt like a polite brush-off. Disappointed, I recited my number, and his assistant quickly jotted it down. Hank looked at me. “Is that all you wanted to discuss? Just business? Nothing else?” What else could there possibly be? We were practically strangers now. But his question did remind me of something. “Actually, there is one personal thing.” His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “Go ahead.” “Do you happen to have Wyatt’s phone number?” Hank’s face instantly went cold. “Why are you looking for him?” Embarrassed to admit that Wyatt had my picture on his lock screen, I stammered, “Just… some personal matters to clear up.” “I don’t have it,” he snapped, his tone freezing over. With his sudden shift in attitude, I did not dare to push further. I merely offered a quiet, “Thank you anyway.” I guess he still disliked me as much as he did in high school. 6 That evening, shortly after I checked into my hotel, a friend request notification popped up on my phone. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the name: Hank. My fingers moved faster than my brain, immediately tapping Accept. Almost instantly, a message popped up. Are you staying at a hotel near the venue? I blinked. Yes, why? Send me your location. You dropped something when you bumped into me earlier. I’ll drive over to return it. My things? What did I drop? Send me the location, and you can see for yourself when I get there. A wave of panic hit me. What if something valuable had fallen out of my bag when I crashed into him? I quickly shared my location. If it’s too far, I can come pick it up myself. It’s fine. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. That was barely enough time to do anything. I leaped out of bed, grabbed my cosmetics bag, and began applying foundation at lightning speed. Halfway through blending, I stopped. I was literally just going downstairs to grab a dropped item. Why on earth was I putting on makeup? I felt a sudden rush of annoyance at myself. Seven years had passed, yet the mere mention of Hank’s name still had the power to make me lose my mind. To prove a point to myself, I washed my face entirely clean, threw on a casual oversized jacket, and went down to the lobby. Hank’s car was already parked by the curb. He was leaning against the passenger side door. He had discarded his formal suit jacket, wearing only a relaxed grey linen shirt that made him look incredibly handsome in the dim streetlights. Seeing me approach, he stood up and walked over. He opened his palm, revealing a delicate, sparkling diamond bracelet. “Is this yours?” I stared at the expensive jewelry. Did Hank have some massive misconception about my financial status? “No,” I said, scratching my head. “If you had just sent me a photo, you wouldn’t have had to drive all this way for nothing. I’m really sorry for making you waste your time.” “Take another look. Are you sure it’s not yours?” Hank frowned. “It definitely isn’t.” “That’s strange,” he muttered, looking genuinely puzzled. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and there hasn’t been another woman near me today except you. If it isn’t yours, whose could it be?” How would I know? Seeing my silence, he withdrew his hand. “Since it’s not yours, I’ll let my assistant handle it.” He didn’t linger. “Go back inside and get some rest. Goodnight.” With that, he got into his car and drove away. Watching his taillights disappear into the evening traffic, I fell into a deep silence. Hank had driven all this way, late at night, just to personally check if a diamond bracelet belonged to me? I had returned a lost phone today, but compared to Hank’s meticulous integrity, I felt completely outclassed. As expected of the high school genius. He excelled at everything, even being a good Samaritan.

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1 The first time I asked for a divorce, Buzz looked at me with those calm, reasonable eyes and said, “At least wait until our son finishes middle school.” I nodded, swallowing my grievances. The second time I brought it up, Buzz used the same gentle, unyielding tone. “At least wait until he graduates from high school.” Again, I nodded, letting another chunk of my life slip away. Now, our son had finally finished his college entrance exams. When I brought up the divorce for the third time, Buzz still refused to sign the papers. Suddenly, everyone in our social circle felt entitled to offer their opinion. “You’ve spent half your life together. Why are you suddenly making such a fuss about a divorce now?” “Exactly. Buzz is a successful businessman, and he still looks incredibly handsome in his late forties. Frankly, Vivian, you’re the one winning here.” Even my own son, Anson, came to lecture me. “Mom, I know Aunt Annette has always been a thorn in your side. But it’s been so many years, and everyone is getting older. Why can’t you just let it go?” But a thorn buried deep in the flesh does not simply disappear. It festers. It throbs with a quiet, agonizing pain with every single breath. Buzz could not pull that thorn out of my heart. So, I had no choice but to cut Buzz out of my life entirely. 2 Despite the overwhelming disapproval from everyone around me, my decision was final. Anson stood in front of the bedroom door, blocking my exit, his voice dripping with childish defiance. “Mom, if you actually go through with this divorce, I swear I won’t go to college.” I continued folding my blouses, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Anson, you are an adult now. You have to take full responsibility for your own choices. If you decide to throw away the last twelve years of your hard work, that is on you.” My blunt response caught him off guard. Flustered and speechless, he whipped out his phone to call his father for backup. “Dad! You need to get home right now! Mom is packing her bags!” I did not care what Buzz said on the other end. I only knew he hung up in a hurry, leaving Anson to throw a tantrum in our room. “Mom, please don’t leave. Please?” It was the same routine he had performed so many times before. In the past, my heart would have melted. Seeing the child I had carried for nine months cry was always my weakness. It was the anchor that had dragged me down, keeping me trapped in this suffocating house for years. But today, looking at his pleading, tear-streaked face, I felt absolutely nothing. I quietly continued packing my clothes, my jewelry, and my legal documents, placing them piece by piece into my suitcase. Suddenly, a large, firm hand clamped down on the rim of the suitcase, halting my movements. Thinking it was Anson trying to aggravate me again, I prepared to tell him to back off. But when I looked up, I met Buzz’s face. He was still as elegant and refined as ever. Time had been exceptionally kind to him; his face had barely changed from the day he had sweet-talked me into marrying him. Yet, his usually unshakeable composure was showing cracks. “Honey, please stop making a scene.” I stood up straight, meeting his gaze. “I am not making a scene.” I truly, deeply, could not live with him for another second. But to Buzz, this was just another minor domestic dispute that could be resolved with a bit of coaxing. He took a tentative step forward. “Are you still upset about Anson’s name?” Upset? I had been plagued by that name for almost two decades. Anson. Anson, which sounded so painfully close to Annette. Buzz had used the birth of our only child to permanently memorialize the woman who held his heart, his true “white moonlight.” How could I not be upset? 3 My introduction to Buzz had been arranged by a mutual friend, Penny. At the time, Penny had practically sworn on her life. “Vivian, trust me on this. He is the definition of a high-quality bachelor.” She had not lied to me. The young Buzz was incredibly handsome, wealthy, and charming. During our first meeting, he had swept me off my feet, and everything had progressed naturally from dating to a beautiful wedding, followed shortly by the birth of our son, Anson. In those early years, I had genuinely believed that God had blessed me with a perfect life. Until Anson’s first birthday party. That afternoon, many of Buzz’s childhood friends had gathered at our house. They were almost entirely men, and when men gather, the alcohol flows freely. And when they drink too much, secrets become impossible to keep. Buzz’s oldest friend, Greg, was the first to lose his filter. Slurring his words and hiccuping, he leaned over the table. “Hey, Buzz… did you name your kid Anson because you still can’t get over Annette?” It was the first time I had ever heard that name. Before Greg could elaborate, another friend scrambled to cover his mouth, trying to laugh it off. “What are you babbling about, Greg? Buzz obviously chose the name because it sounds noble and classic! It means ‘son of the divine’!” “Exactly! It’s a beautiful, literary name. Don’t listen to this drunk idiot.” But Buzz, who had just downed a glass of whiskey, sat beside me with a glazed, wistful look on his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with a quiet melancholy. “I really can’t forget her.” The friends panicked, trying to shut him up, but Greg broke free from their grip, laughing mockingly. “Of course he can’t! Buzz spent twenty years telling everyone he was going to marry Annette, since he was eight years old. Then she goes and marries some starving artist. Who could possibly get over that?” The revelation hit me like a physical blow. It was a past Buzz had completely hidden from me. Before I could demand an explanation, Greg passed out face-first onto the dining table. Buzz let out a loud, drunken laugh. “Greg, you lightweight! You promised you’d help me win her back…” The rest of Buzz’s sentence was muffled as three of his friends practically tackled him to keep him quiet. The dining room descended into a chaotic scramble of excuses. “Vivian, don’t mind them. They’re just talking complete nonsense because of the alcohol. Buzz isn’t like that at all.” “Yeah, Vivian, that’s all ancient history. You’re the one who is his wife now.” It was a chaotic mess. That night, Buzz slept like a baby, his secret laid bare by his friends without a hint of remorse on his part. But I stayed awake. Under the cold moonlight, I stared at our infant son, then at Buzz’s sleeping face, until the sun began to rise. The next morning, Buzz woke up, clearly annoyed by his drunken display from the night before. He offered a brief, dismissive explanation. “Annette and I are in the past.” I was twenty-seven when I met the twenty-eight-year-old Buzz. I was not naive enough to expect him to have a completely blank romantic history. But I could not accept my son being named as a monument to his ex-lover. Yet, Buzz flatly refused to change the name. When I kept pushing the issue, his frustration boiled over. “It’s just a name, Vivian. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” But was it really just a name? The tension between us escalated. I took our son and went to the government registry to legally change his name myself, only to find out that Buzz had already blocked any unilateral changes. When I threatened a divorce, Buzz had looked at me and said, “Our son is too young. At least wait until he finishes middle school.” When I refused to back down, his tone had turned cold and threatening. “Vivian, you might not care about this marriage, but do you still care about your family’s business partnership with the Sinclair Group?” My parents’ livelihood depended on that partnership. Buzz’s grip on me was ironclad, ruthless, and terrifyingly effective. Over the years, I had tried to cope. I had even foolishly hoped that perhaps somewhere deep down, Buzz had grown to love me. But eventually, I realized I was nothing more than a clown in his grand romantic tragedy. From marrying me to having a child, to refusing to let me go, Buzz’s entire life was an elaborate performance designed to comfort Annette. He wanted to show her: Look, even without you, I am living a perfect, successful life. So, Annette, you go ahead and chase your happiness. You don’t have to worry about me. 4 Buzz yanked my suitcase behind him, his tone softening into a gentle, pleading murmur. “If it really bothers you that much, we can go and legally change Anson’s name tomorrow.” For nearly twenty years, I had begged for this. Now that he was finally offering it, I realized I did not want it anymore. Buzz watched me, his expression almost submissive. “What would you like to rename him?” Before I could answer that his offer was decades too late, Anson interrupted, his voice dripping with annoyance. “I’m not changing my name! My name is Anson, and I love it! Mom, why are you always so obsessed with Aunt Annette? Is it really that big of a deal?” A spark of anger flared in my chest. “It is not a small thing!” Anson raised his voice, shouting over me. “It is! You’re just incredibly jealous of Aunt Annette! That’s why you threw away all her old photos and gifts from our house, and now you want to ruin my name too!” Slap. Buzz’s hand struck Anson’s cheek with a sharp crack. “How dare you speak to your mother like that? Get out of here!” Anson clutched his reddening cheek in utter disbelief. “I only said what you always think! Mom is just a bitter, stubborn woman, and someone needed to tell her the truth!” Before he could finish his sentence, my hand flew across his other cheek, striking him just as hard. Anson stumbled backward, tears welling in his eyes. He glared at both of us before bolting toward the front door. “I’m going to Aunt Annette’s house, and I’m never coming back!” The bedroom finally fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Buzz rubbed his temples, trying to smooth things over. “He is just an immature kid, Vivian. Don’t take his words to heart. And please, let’s not talk about divorce anymore. Annette and I have been completely over for years.” “But Anson is eighteen,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. “Why do you think he is so incredibly attached to his ‘Aunt Annette’?” “Is it because you spent years singing her praises to him? Or is it because you constantly snuck him over to her house behind my back?” “Or was it both?” Buzz thought he had hidden his tracks perfectly. But every single time the two of them returned from their “father-son outings,” they would reek of a heavy citrus cologne, a pathetic attempt to mask the distinct lavender scent that Annette always wore. It had been going on for years. 5 There was a time when the sheer exhaustion of fighting had worn away my sharp edges. I had accepted my fate, resigning myself to a lifetime of quiet misery just to give my son a stable home. After Anson finished middle school, neither Buzz nor I had brought up the divorce again, maintaining a fragile, silent truce. When Anson entered high school, his grades began to slip. Buzz suggested sending him to a private physics tutor, and Anson had agreed, attending the sessions with an unusual amount of enthusiasm. I had assumed he simply had a charismatic teacher. Until three months later. Buzz was tied up with an important client, so I offered to drive Anson to his session. The moment I suggested it, Anson’s behavior turned incredibly bizarre. First, he claimed to have a sudden, agonizing stomach ache. Then, he complained of a migraine. He did everything in his power to avoid getting into my car. My suspicions were aroused. The following week, when Buzz drove him to his tutoring session, I quietly followed them in my own car. Their vehicle eventually pulled up in front of a gorgeous villa surrounded by blooming fields of lavender. Anson jumped out of the passenger seat, running toward the front door with a bright, genuine smile. “Aunt Annette! We’re here!” Aunt Annette. The name felt like a physical blow to my chest. A beautiful, elegant woman walked out of the villa, her face lighting up as she greeted him. Anson grinned, practically bouncing on his heels. “Aunt Annette, I want to eat your special short ribs today, and your roasted beef…” “I’ve already prepared everything,” she replied, her voice soft and maternal. Buzz stepped out of the car, carrying a brand-new Hermès shopping bag, which he handed to her with a familiar warmth. “Annette, you really shouldn’t spoil him so much…” The scene was picture-perfect, a warm, loving family reunion. And to me, it was the ultimate, cold-blooded betrayal. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I did not want to storm into her house and act like a hysterical, screaming wife demanding answers. I refused to give them the satisfaction of looking down on me. I quietly turned my car around and drove back to our empty house. I sat in the dark, watching the streetlights flicker through the window, hiding my humiliation in the shadows. It was late in the evening when Buzz and Anson finally returned. They walked through the door, practically radiating a thick, suffocating scent of lavender. I sent Anson up to his room, leaving me alone with Buzz. I tossed the photos I had taken onto the coffee table. “I thought he was going to a tutoring center. Since when does his physics tutor live in a private villa?” Buzz turned on the lights. When he saw the photos, the color drained from his face, and he looked momentarily panicked. “Annette was always excellent at physics,” he stammered. “I just thought she could help Anson with his grades.” His excuse was laughably pathetic. “I checked her records, Buzz,” I said, my voice cracking with years of unshed tears. “Annette was an art major. How on earth is she qualified to tutor our son in physics?” That night, our house erupted into the worst screaming match of our marriage, ending with my second demand for a divorce. But once again, Buzz found my weakness. “Anson is at a critical juncture in his life with his upcoming college entrance exams. Let’s at least wait until he graduates, Vivian. For his sake.” He knew exactly which strings to pull to keep me in line. I lost all my strength, and I agreed to wait one last time. But even after that confrontation, they continued to sneak over to Annette’s villa. They simply became more careful, drenching themselves in that strong citrus cologne before coming home to cover up the lavender scent. Over time, my heart simply went numb. I lost my weakness. I spent the remaining years counting down the days until Anson’s high school graduation. I was finally ready to leave Buzz and this toxic house behind. 6 Faced with my cold, unwavering stare, Buzz found himself completely out of excuses. But even if he had a thousand more lies, he could not stop me from leaving. I yanked my suitcase back from his grip, my voice deadly quiet. “Buzz, three strikes and you’re out. You need to let me go.” Buzz’s face darkened, but he realized he had no leverage left. The business partnerships between our families had been systematically phased out ever since I took over my family’s company. Any minor losses from a split would not affect us in the slightest. As for Anson, he was an adult now. He could no longer be used as a hostage to keep me trapped. Buzz opened and closed his mouth, desperately searching for something to say. Finally, he resorted to playing the emotional card. “Vivian, please. I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I used to love Annette, and I know I’ve hurt you deeply. But we’ve built a life together over the last twenty years. I’ve grown to care for you, and I swear, I have never physically cheated on you since the day we married.” It was almost comical. Did he truly believe that emotional infidelity was not a betrayal? He had treated me as a convenient shield to hide his failed romance, and he had named the child I carried for nine months to honor his first love. And he dared to claim he had never wronged me? Any lingering affection I had for him had died years ago, buried under a mountain of lies. “We are getting a divorce,” I said, my tone flat. “From now on, you can call me Vivian, or you can call me your soon-to-be ex-wife.” My absolute certainty seemed to terrify him. “Please don’t do this. We can talk about this.” “There is nothing left to talk about! I have spent two decades tolerating you and this hollow marriage. Let me go, Buzz. The divorce papers are on the kitchen island. I will see you at the courthouse at nine tomorrow morning.” Buzz tried to grab my arm, but I brushed past him, pushing him out of my way as I walked out of the bedroom. My shove was hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps before he regained his footing. As I walked down the grand staircase, the sharp click of my high heels echoed off the marble walls of the empty villa. Just as my hand touched the front doorknob, Buzz’s voice drifted down from the landing, sounding hollow and broken. “Are you really throwing me away?” I did not turn around. “Yes.” I pulled the door open, but his voice stopped me one last time. “Vivian… my chest hurts.” My fingers tightened around the metal handle, a faint tremor running through my hand. After so many years of resentment and cold silence, I had almost forgotten that there was a time when Buzz and I had been genuinely happy. When we first met, Buzz had pursued me with an intense, romantic fervor. He made sure every anniversary was special, and his proposal had been nothing short of spectacular. He had lied to me, saying we were attending a friend’s engagement party. In the middle of the crowded ballroom, he had suddenly gasped, clutching his chest and falling to one knee. “Vivian… my chest hurts.” He had played the part so realistically that I had panicked, throwing aside my purse and rushing to his side, terrified that something was terribly wrong with him. But then, he had pulled a diamond ring from his pocket, looking up at me with eyes full of a warmth that seemed entirely genuine. “Vivian, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” His words tonight were an exact echo of that memory. For a long time, I had been deeply moved by that proposal. I had believed I was stepping into a lifetime of happiness. But through the years, I had come to realize that his elaborate grand gestures were never truly about me. They were designed to reassure Annette, to show her that he was moving on so she could pursue her own life without guilt. Even his refusal to sign the divorce papers now was likely motivated by vanity, a desire to maintain his perfect public image, or perhaps a fear of what Annette would think if she found out his perfect family had crumbled. It was never about loving me. “Nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” I said coldly, stepping out into the night and slamming the heavy oak door behind me. I walked forward, eager to step into my new life.

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1 I was working my usual delivery route when I stumbled upon a young couple having a massive argument in the middle of the street. The girl slammed a bag of expensive cherries onto the asphalt, her finger practically boring a hole into the young man’s nose as she screamed about how useless he was. Right then, a cascade of glowing text started scrolling across my vision like live chat comments on a streaming video. Oh, my poor baby girl! Please don’t be mad at him just because he couldn’t buy you that designer handbag. He’s been hauling bricks at a construction site all day! Just wait until he gets his memories back and returns to his billionaire family! This is the classic bratty-heroine trope. She throws tantrums, and he just spoils her rotten. He only endures her because she saved his life. He’s just dirt-poor right now. Don’t worry, this cheap rental-apartment phase will pass soon. I quietly picked up the cherries that were still intact, brushed them off, and slipped them into a plastic bag. Then, I walked over and handed them to the young man—the billionaire heir in disguise. If he was the kind of male lead who paid back his debts of gratitude with interest, then I definitely needed to get in on this action. Young master, your loyal servant has arrived! 2 Xavier had just been scolded to within an inch of his life by Sasha. He stood there with his head bowed, a dark, gloomy shadow hanging over his eyes, when he suddenly registered my presence. I handed him the bag of salvaged cherries. “Take them,” I said. “Cherries are expensive. Even if she doesn’t want them, you should eat some yourself.” Xavier stared at me for a second before offering a low, raspy, “Thank you.” Sasha, standing off to the side, immediately bristled. “I threw those away! Why are you picking them up? I told you, I don’t want cherries! I want a designer bag!” “You promised me, Xavier! Where is my bag?” Even face-to-face with such unreasonable behavior, Xavier did not lose his temper. He kept his head down, his voice quiet as he tried to explain. “I was supposed to get a bonus, but I missed a few shifts last week. I will save up and buy it for you soon, I promise.” Sasha snatched the bag of cherries from his hands, raising her arm to fling them away again. “Are you blaming me for you missing work? You always have an excuse!” I stepped in, raising my hands to catch the bag before she could throw it. “Actually, I’ve never tasted cherries before. If you two are just going to throw them away, could I have them?” Sasha tossed the bag to me with a haughty sniff. “Whatever. I was going to throw them in the trash anyway. Eat them if you want.” She turned on her heel, preparing to head back to their building. “It’s too hot out here. I’m going back to the AC.” “If you don’t get me that bag by the end of the week, I’m never speaking to you again!” 3 With Sasha’s dramatic exit, Xavier and I were left standing on the sidewalk, staring at each other. Xavier motioned toward the bag in my hands. “Go ahead and take them.” I noticed he was standing around, waiting for his afternoon shift at the nearby construction site to start. The scorching midday sun had already left him looking pale and exhausted. I walked over to a nearby public faucet, thoroughly washed the cherries, and walked back to him. “I can’t just eat your expensive fruit for free,” I said, offering the bag. “Let’s share.” “It’s a waste to let them sit. Besides, you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” It was the peak of the afternoon heat, the only break the construction workers got all day. Instead of eating, Xavier had spent his entire break buying cherries and arguing with Sasha. “We are both working-class people,” I urged him. “If you don’t eat, you’ll pass out on the job, and then you’ll lose a whole day’s wages.” My practical reasoning finally got through to him. He reached into the bag and began eating the cherries with me. While we ate, my eyes caught his work schedule sticking out of his pocket. I was genuinely shocked by his grueling hours. “You must make a decent amount with all these shifts, right?” Xavier looked slightly embarrassed. “My expenses are high.” “I want to save up for a house and a car. I guess I’m just not working hard enough.” Once the cherries were gone, he wiped his hands and headed back to the construction site. I watched his retreating figure, deeply amused. Not working hard enough? You are a billionaire heir, young master. You have probably never worked this hard in your entire life. But don’t worry. Your loyal future assistant is on her way. 4 After finishing my evening delivery shifts, I set out to find Xavier to build up some goodwill. Thanks to the scrolling comments in my vision, I could easily pinpoint his exact location. The text was constantly debating and analyzing his life, sometimes scrolling so fast it made my eyes hurt. It was late at night, and I had already finished my workday. I saw Xavier preparing to head back into the construction site. “You’re working the night shift too?” I asked, genuinely shocked. Since the cherry incident, we had established a casual, friendly report. “They pay a little extra to have someone watch the site at night,” Xavier explained. “I can organize the bricks while I’m here. I need to make whatever I can.” I let out a soft sigh. This kind of off-the-books night watch was technically a labor violation, but the site manager and Xavier had a silent agreement. “You should stop hauling bricks at night,” I told him gently. “The pay might be decent, but it’s incredibly dangerous to work in the dark when you’re already exhausted.” “I know a recycling scrap yard nearby that is looking for a night watchman. The pay is definitely better than what you’re making here.” I had been eyeing that job myself for a long time. But it was a strict overnight shift, which did not fit my delivery schedule. Xavier, who was already working illegal night shifts, was the perfect candidate. Xavier hesitated. “I don’t have an ID.” I blinked. In this day and age, how could someone be a legal ghost? Immediately, a flurry of comments scrolled across my eyes. Oh, the heroine lied to him! She told him he has a criminal record so he’d be too terrified to go to the police station for a new ID. In reality, his wealthy family isn’t stupid. The moment he registers for a new ID, they’ll track him down instantly. There’s no way they’d let him haul bricks in the dirt. The heroine hasn’t fully secured his heart yet, so she’s terrified of him returning to his family. His amnesia was literally caused by her! She’s pushing him away while keeping him close. This toxic dynamic is so good. So that was the truth. To keep their little romance going, these people really went to extreme lengths. They practically treated their lovers like hostages. “Do you want to get one?” I asked cautiously. “The local precinct is just down the road.” Seeing the sudden flicker of hesitation and fear in Xavier’s eyes, I realized he did not trust me enough yet. I decided not to push. “Well, the manager at the scrap yard is a close friend of mine. He won’t require an ID. I can introduce you.” If the heroine could manipulate him to build affection, so could I. Once he returned to his family, he would surely remember the person who had thrown him a lifeline when he was at his absolute lowest. 5 I successfully got Xavier hired at the scrap yard. He looked slightly embarrassed as he thanked me. “I’m really sorry for putting you to so much trouble.” I waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. You shared those expensive cherries with me, and I’d never had them before.” Xavier murmured, “I hadn’t had them before either.” I fell silent for a moment. He had amnesia, so he genuinely believed he was poor. But I was actually living in poverty. The night was long and quiet. The scrap yard only required attention when clients arrived with deliveries, so Xavier spent most of his time sitting in the small office. He actually initiated a conversation with me. “Have you always made a living as a delivery driver?” I nodded. “I had no choice. I graduated right into a terrible job market, and my family is drowned in debt. I had to do whatever paid immediately.” Xavier said softly, “I don’t remember my past, but I have a feeling my family was deeply in debt too.” If only you knew you were a billionaire heir. Yet, here he was, guarding a heap of scrap metal in a dusty yard after a full day of manual labor. If he didn’t have the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and perfect physical build of a romance novel protagonist, he probably would have collapsed from sheer exhaustion by now. This was undoubtedly the darkest period of his life. But I did not pity him. I was in a pretty miserable state myself. I was only acting as a good Samaritan because I had a clear goal in mind. I reached into the office locker and handed him a clean, folded shirt. “Your shirt has a massive tear in the back. You should change.” Xavier took the shirt, thanking me profusely. I truly could not comprehend the mindset of a man who refused to buy himself a cheap new shirt but was willing to kill himself working night shifts to buy a designer handbag for his girlfriend. Perhaps that was the mysterious power of love. As a broke, practical person, it was entirely beyond my understanding. “I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning,” I told him. “If anything comes up, just call my number.” “The job is simple. A lot of people bring in scrap metal overnight, so you just need to log their names, the weight of the scrap, and the payout amount.” Xavier nodded seriously, noting down every instruction. “Thank you, Valerie.” Suddenly, the comments in my vision started scrolling frantically. Who is this girl? Is she a romantic rival? No, she’s not even in the original novel! The heroine was supposed to apologize to him at the construction site tonight, but this random girl took him to a scrap yard! The plot is completely derailed! Ugh, I don’t want to see another woman near the male lead. Xavier is gone for the entire night. The heroine is going to throw a massive fit tomorrow! I love seeing powerful men submit to their lovers! How dare this minor NPC interfere with our leads’ relationship? I rolled my eyes mentally. Interfere? I was just trying to survive. I just wanted Xavier to remember my kindness. Once he returned to his penthouse, all I needed was a tiny crumb of his wealth to escape my own financial ruin. 6 Xavier had barely finished his first overnight shift when Sasha tracked him down. My uncle, who managed the scrap yard, called me in a panic, his voice dripping with frustration. “Valerie, where did you find this guy? He hasn’t even finished a single shift, and his family is already here causing a massive scene!” When I rushed over to the scrap yard, Sasha was in the middle of a screaming tantrum. “Are you trying to abandon me? Why didn’t you come home last night?” “Didn’t we agree that you have to be with me every single night?” Xavier had left her a detailed note along with a hot meal before his shift, but Sasha was completely inconsolable. She had finally brought herself to go to the construction site to apologize, only to find him gone. Xavier tried to calm her down. “This is a new job I found. It pays much better than the night watch at the construction site.” Sasha refused to listen. She covered her ears, screaming that she wanted both her designer bag and him at home immediately, behaving as if she wanted to split Xavier into two people. Xavier remained incredibly patient, offering endless explanations without a single hint of anger. Living in that cramped apartment together had clearly fostered a deep, intense affection between them. But I was not there to watch a romantic drama. I had a job to protect. “Miss, this is a place of business,” I said, stepping between them. “Please leave the premises.” Sasha glared at me, her eyes narrowing. “You again! Do you think Xavier is handsome? What is your actual angle here?” I shrugged. “The rules are simple. If you keep disrupting our work, we will have to let him go.” “Why don’t you try asking around this neighborhood? See if any other business is willing to hire a guy with no ID. If he gets caught working illegally elsewhere, he might end up in a holding cell.” Sasha’s expression instantly faltered, a flash of genuine panic crossing her face. Xavier added, “The job is great, Sasha. I can buy you that bag much sooner this way.” Sasha bit her lip, looking uneasy. “Fine, whatever. You can work here.” She pointed a finger at me, her voice sharp. “But I’m warning you, don’t you dare try to steal my boyfriend!” 7 I looked at myself, then back at Sasha. “Are you really that insecure?” I asked, amused. Sasha was undeniably beautiful. Even in a simple pair of denim jeans, she looked like a delicate princess who had accidentally wandered into the real world. But comparing herself to me was completely pointless. Once Xavier recovered his memories and returned to his family, she would have to face a swarm of incredibly wealthy, highly educated heiresses competing for his attention. Sasha sniffed, letting out a dramatic yawn. “I’m exhausted. I’m going back to sleep. If I don’t get enough sleep, my skin is going to ruin.” “And since you weren’t home last night, nobody was there to boil hot water for me. How was I supposed to take a shower? I am so sick of that cheap apartment.” Xavier immediately began apologizing again, a look of profound exhaustion and embarrassment crossing his handsome face. “I’m sorry. Can you try to shower a bit earlier next time? I promise I’ll have the water ready for you before I leave for my shift.” The comments in my vision flared up again. She is so bratty! I love this dynamic! The heroine is so delicate. Since she saved his life and is his only anchor in the world, she has every right to be arrogant. Honestly, the moment he goes to work, we lose all the cute, domestic moments. But it’s still satisfying to see him act like her devoted servant even when he’s exhausted, spending all his money on her. Even though Sasha’s demands were utterly ridiculous, Xavier continued to coax her gently. As long as Sasha kept Xavier hidden away in that tiny apartment, his grueling, miserable routine would continue indefinitely. I felt a sudden wave of disgust at the entire situation. The young man had a life of luxury waiting for him, yet he was being forced to endure manual labor and emotional abuse just to satisfy her selfish desire to keep him to herself. All for the sake of some romantic fantasy, a brilliant young man was being dragged into the dirt. I, too, was being dragged down by my father’s debts, working myself to the bone without a single second of relief. I turned to Sasha, but my words were directed entirely at Xavier. “I saw a flyer on the bulletin board down the street. The Kingsley family is offering a massive reward for their missing son. The sketch on the poster looks exactly like you, Xavier. Do you think it’s possible you’re him?” Sasha’s face instantly went paper-white. Her voice trembled with panic. “What… what are you talking about?” She grabbed Xavier’s hand, dragging him toward the exit. “We are leaving. We’re not working here anymore!” “Let’s go home!”

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I was buried under a mountain of paperwork, completely empty-handed, when I posted a quick message in our team’s Slack channel. I asked if anyone could grab me lunch on their way back, offering to buy them a boba tea in return. The new intern, Tessa, saw the message and volunteered to help. But when she handed me the takeout box, she kept her eyes glued to her freshly done acrylic nails, picking at them idly. “So, I was scrolling through TikTok earlier,” she said, her tone casually drifting. “Starbucks just came out with this new fruit Frappuccino.” “It’s only eight dollars, but I haven’t tried it yet.” My finger hovered over the boba app. My entire lunch, including delivery, hadn’t even run me five dollars. Yet, seeing the eager look on her face, I decided not to make a fuss. I quietly opened the Starbucks app and ordered the drink for her. Tessa beamed instantly, promising she’d always be down to help out in the future. The next morning, I had barely walked through the door and hadn’t even clocked in yet when Tessa marched over and plopped a plastic takeout container right onto my desk. “Morning, June! I grabbed you lunch again today,” she announced. “It’s a chicken teriyaki bowl from the diner downstairs. Only four dollars. And for the delivery fee, same as yesterday, please. I want a Rose Latte from Starbucks.” “Venti, iced, blonde espresso, light ice, no foam. It’s only nine dollars. Thanks!” 1 I blinked, staring down at my phone. It was barely nine in the morning. We didn’t even take lunch until noon. Why was she handing me a hot lunch three hours early? Seeing me silent and staring at my screen, Tessa tapped the plastic lid of the bowl, prompting me. “Did you get all that? Venti Rose Latte. And don’t be cheap like yesterday, ordering a Grande. I barely got a taste of it.” She actually rolled her eyes. A dry laugh escaped my throat. “I didn’t ask you to get me lunch today,” I said. Tessa stiffened, her face instantly flushing red. “Excuse me? Are you seriously power-tripping on an intern right now?” “I already bought the food, and now you’re telling me you don’t want it? Do you have any idea how early I had to drag myself out of bed just to get this for you?” “I don’t care. You have to buy me my coffee. I earned it!” She practically stomped her foot, her voice rising so loud it began drawing looks from across the floor. Before long, a few colleagues wandered over. “What’s going on over here?” “Why the drama so early?” “June, is everything okay?” Valerie, a senior designer who had been with the company as long as I had, looked at me with confusion. Before I could open my mouth, Tessa’s eyes welled with tears. “Valerie, you have to help me,” she sobbed, turning to the crowd. “June asked me to get her lunch, so I did. Now she’s refusing to pay me back!” She sniffled loudly, batting her perfectly curled lashes. To me, it was a blatant performance, but to everyone else, she looked utterly helpless. The office began to whisper. I looked around at the faces of my coworkers. There was no real malice in their eyes, but the underlying assumption was clear: the veteran employee was picking on the defenseless newcomer. Valerie reached over to hand Tessa a tissue. “Hey, don’t cry. June isn’t that kind of person. There has to be a misunderstanding here.” “Look, I’ll just Venmo you the money myself. Let’s not make a scene. It’s going to look terrible if the supervisors see this.” As Valerie pulled out her phone, I quickly caught her wrist. “Don’t worry about it, Valerie,” I muttered, gritting my teeth. “I’ll pay her.” If I let Valerie cover it, the narrative that I was bullying the intern would be set in stone. Trying to clear my name after that would be impossible. I unlocked my phone. A victorious smirk flashed across Tessa’s face before she quickly masked it. “It’s thirteen dollars total. Make sure you get the amount right.” My thumb froze over the screen. The teriyaki bowl was four dollars, and her latte was nine. The coffee cost more than double the food she brought me. But I couldn’t say a word. Not with her tears still fresh. I processed the transfer. My chest felt tight, a heavy knot of frustration burning in my throat. The second the notification popped up on her phone, Tessa’s tears vanished. She offered Valerie a sweet thank-you and skipped back to her desk. Valerie patted my shoulder in silent sympathy before the crowd dispersed. The office returned to its usual hum. I set my bag down and sank into my chair. The cheap plastic container Tessa had brought was sitting right on top of my keyboard, and orange grease was already dripping down the side, seeping into the keys. I stared at the thirteen-dollar lunch for a long, quiet moment. Then, I picked it up, threw it straight into the trash, and booted up my computer. I had barely opened Google Docs when Tessa’s profile picture started flashing on my Slack. “Hey June! :)” She sent an emoji of a dancing cat. “Just so we’re clear, that thirteen dollars was for my trouble this morning. Don’t forget my Venti latte this afternoon!” 2 I stared at the message, completely baffled. I typed back: “Excuse me? On what grounds?” “I already paid you.” Tessa replied almost instantly: “That doesn’t count.” “It’s just a coffee. You’ve been here for years, are you really going to pinch pennies over this?” “Don’t think I don’t know about that three-thousand-dollar bonus you got from the last project. Every other team lead takes their team out when they get a bonus. You’re the only one hoarding it.” “To make up for it, you’re not just buying me coffee this afternoon. You’re buying one for all the interns on our team.” “Otherwise, I’ll post about what happened this morning in the main company Slack channel and let everyone judge you.” “It’s not like you’re the one who decides if we get hired full-time anyway.” Her smug threat glared back at me from the screen. I took a slow breath and did the math. There were five interns in our group. Tessa was the most recent hire, and her evaluation was scheduled for next week, along with the others. Buying five premium Starbucks drinks would run me about forty-five dollars. That was practically my budget for a whole day, or the cost of several days’ worth of cancer medication for my mother. The project Tessa mentioned was one I had managed entirely by myself last year. We finished it in mid-January, but due to administrative delays, the bonus didn’t pay out until this month. It had absolutely nothing to do with the interns. The company had awarded me a three-thousand-dollar bonus. The moment the money hit my account, I used it to pay off my mother’s hospital bills. Then, I tagged everyone in our team group chat: [Hey everyone, I have some urgent family matters to take care of this month, but I promise I’ll treat everyone to a nice dinner as soon as next month’s paycheck comes in.] Tessa had been in that chat. She had replied with a heart emoji and even sent me a private message asking if I needed any help. She wrote, “We’re a team, June. Don’t carry it all on your shoulders.” At the time, I genuinely thought I had hit the jackpot with an incredibly sweet, supportive intern. I never expected her to completely turn on me just ten days later. When I didn’t reply right away, another message popped up. “June? Hello?” “Don’t play dead.” “I can see you’re active on Slack.” I took a deep breath and typed out a brief reply. “Got it.” You want Starbucks, Tessa? Fine. I’ll buy it. But once you drink that coffee, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. I opened the food delivery app and placed an order for five drinks. My hand didn’t shake when I hit pay. Forty-five dollars was a steep price for a lesson, but it was worth it. It would show me exactly where these interns stood, and whether they were worth mentoring any longer. At one in the afternoon, the delivery arrived. I carried the drink tray over to the cluster of desks where the interns worked. I pulled out a Matcha Frappuccino first. “Becca, I know you love matcha. This one’s for you.” Becca looked up, pushing her glasses up her nose with a warm smile. “Oh, thank you so much, June!” Tessa immediately frowned, pouting. “Actually, Becca, you have it backward. I’m the one who convinced June to buy these. You should really be thanking me.” “Right, June?” Becca offered a tense, awkward smile and quickly looked back down at her monitor. I reached for the next cup and handed it to Owen. “Owen, a flat white for you.” Owen took it with both hands. “Thanks, June.” Tessa made a loud clicking sound with her tongue. Owen’s hands froze on the cup. He quickly cleared his throat and added, “And thanks, Tessa.” Only then did Tessa look satisfied, lifting her chin high. “That’s more like it.” As I handed out the rest of the drinks to the other interns, Tessa trailed right behind me, loudly narrating her “heroic” feat of forcing me to buy everyone coffee. I didn’t say a single word of defense, acting as if she were nothing but background noise. Soon, four of the cups were gone. Only the Venti Rose Latte remained in the bag. Staring hungrily at the oversized cup, Tessa eagerly reached her hand out toward me. “You don’t need to hand this one to me, June. Just let me grab it.” As she reached, I took a step back. And right in front of her face, I pulled the straw out of its wrapper, punctured the lid, and took a slow, deliberate sip. I looked at her with genuine confusion. “I’m sorry. When did I ever say this one was for you?” 3 The smile on Tessa’s face instantly froze. Before she could even begin to unleash her fury, Valerie called out from across the room, waving a hand. “June! The boss wants to see you in his office.” I set the coffee down, completely ignoring the venomous glare Tessa was shooting at me, and walked into the manager’s office. Our boss, Thomas, was on a call and gestured for me to take a seat while he wrapped up. I pulled out my phone, intending to reply to a client’s message. Instead, Becca’s profile icon was flashing on my screen. She had sent three screenshots of an private group chat along with a screen-recorded audio clip. Below them, she wrote: “June, is there some kind of misunderstanding between you and Tessa?” I tapped open the screenshots. Tessa had been venting in an exclusive intern group chat. She claimed she had gone out of her way to be helpful by grabbing me lunch, only for me to refuse to even buy her a simple cup of coffee. She painted me as a toxic veteran abusing my authority, power-tripping over the new hires, and using a Starbucks order to humiliate her. To make it look convincing, she had attached two screenshots of her payment history. One was from yesterday for a four-dollar lunch. The other was from this morning for a four-dollar teriyaki bowl. She had also recorded a voice note from the restroom, her voice trembling with theatrical sobs: “I know we’re just interns and we’re supposed to listen to the team lead, but are we not even human to her?” “Why does she get to push us around like this?” “She’s exploiting me today, but tomorrow it’ll be one of you. None of us are safe from her!” She sounded utterly heartbroken, masterfully spinning a narrative of toxic workplace bullying. In the screenshots, Becca had tried to defend me: “I don’t think June is that kind of person…” “That’s just because she plays nice!” Tessa fired back. “If she’s so great, why didn’t she buy us dinner after getting that huge bonus? I asked around. The manager of Team Three took his entire team out for a premium seafood buffet last week.” After that, the chat had gone completely dead. Becca sent another text directly to me: “June, do you want to explain things to the group?” I didn’t reply. She followed up with: “To be honest, it’s not really about the free food. It’s just that every other team lead does it…” “Tessa kind of has a point.” A point? A cold, bitter smile crept onto my face. My chest felt hollow. I had mentored five interns in total. Owen was the first to arrive back in March. Mid-way through, he had to take a two-month leave of absence to prepare for his graduation thesis defense. HR had approached me then, stating that internship slots were highly competitive and there was a massive waitlist of eager candidates. They advised me to let him go. It was me who argued that the job market was brutal for new grads. I was the one who treated the HR manager to lunch and begged them to keep Owen on. That was the only reason he still had a job here. Then there was Becca. She had come in with zero experience. In the beginning, she struggled constantly to keep pace, frequently staying in the office until eleven or twelve at night. A few times, the pressure got so bad she ended up crying quietly at her desk while working late. When I noticed, I immediately reorganized her workload. I took her under my wing, teaching her the ropes step-by-step. For the past two weeks, she hadn’t had to work a single hour of overtime. Aside from not buying them dinner with my own personal bonus, I had gone above and beyond for these interns. And yet, for the sake of a free meal, they were already taking Tessa’s side. I looked down at my phone, ready to type a reply, when Becca sent one final screenshot. One of the other interns had voiced a concern in their group chat: “Look, whatever the case, June is still our team lead. Tessa, if you piss her off this badly, what if she blocks your full-time offer?” The others seemed to snap back to reality, chiming in: “Yeah, we still need to pass our evaluations.” “Tessa, stop stirring the pot. Jobs are so hard to find right now. If this ruins our chances, are you going to take responsibility?” “It took me forever to land this position.” “My parents had to pull so many strings for me to get this gig.” Tessa replied with a smug, dismissive emoji. “What is there to be scared of? I already asked HR. The final hire-on power belongs to Thomas, the big boss. The team leads don’t have a say.” “June is just a glorified shift supervisor. If she wasn’t assigned to train us, nobody would even look her way.” “Honestly, the more I think about it, the angrier I get.” “I’m going to make a scene out of this. I’ll make sure everyone in the company knows how she treated me. Why should I take this lying down?” “When the time comes, just make sure you all back me up.” The screenshots ended there. Becca sent one last text: “June, I know it’s tough on you too. But everyone is really worked up because of what Tessa said.” “Maybe you should just swallow your pride and apologize to her? It’s not like a meal costs that much anyway.” “If this turns into a massive HR issue, it won’t look good on your record either.” I stared at those words, feeling a cold weight sink to the pit of my stomach. Just as I was about to type back, Thomas hung up his call. He turned to me, resting his hands on his desk. “June, the company is restructuring next month. Your team is going to become an independent department.” “I want you to start thinking about the intern evaluations.” “You decide who we keep and who we let go. I won’t interfere.” 4 For a second or two, I just sat there, completely frozen. Then, a smile broke across my face. It wasn’t a polite, professional smile. It was the sudden, sweet release of a suffocating weight that had been pressing down on my chest all day. Thomas saw my expression and let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t feel too pressured, June.” “I’ve watched how hard you work to train these new hires. I know how much effort you put in.” “With this restructure, your team is going to be independent. That means we need people with the right attitude.” His tone grew serious. “If someone’s skills are lacking, we can train them.” “But if their character is rotten, there’s nothing we can do to save them.” I nodded slowly. “And the criteria for the evaluations?” Thomas slid a folder across the desk toward me. “You set them.” “Performance, teamwork, accountability, and integrity.” “You make the final call on who stays. Even if you decide to let every single one of them go, I trust your judgment.” I looked down at the folder, pressing my fingers against the crisp paper. Becca’s screenshots were still sitting open on my phone screen in my lap. Tessa thought I was just a nobody. She thought I had zero power over her career. She thought no one cared. She was about to find out how wrong she was. Kindness does not mean being toothless. I closed the folder with a firm snap. “Understood. Thank you, Thomas.” The moment I stepped out of Thomas’s office, I noticed how unnaturally quiet the floor had become. It was eerie. I looked up and saw a crowd gathered around the breakroom. Tessa was standing right in the center, her eyes red and puffy, clutching a crumpled tissue. Her shoulders trembled with soft, dramatic sobs. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone,” she sniffled, wiping her nose. “I just… I just feel so humiliated.” “She bought coffee for literally every single person on the team except for me. How is that not targeted?” She paused to dab at her eyes. “And this morning was the same thing.” “I went out of my way to be nice and grab her lunch, but when she transferred the money, she looked so disgusted. I know she got that huge bonus, and maybe she just thinks interns aren’t worth the price of a coffee.” “If I knew she was going to use her position to bully me like this, I would’ve just kept my mouth shut and taken the loss.” She played the victim flawlessly, making me out to be some miserable tyrant power-tripping over a helpless kid. Valerie frowned, still looking skeptical. “Tessa, are you absolutely sure June did this on purpose?” Tessa nodded vigorously, more tears spilling over. “Valerie, why would I make this up?” She turned her tearful gaze to the other interns standing nearby. “Tell them. Isn’t that exactly what happened?” The interns shifted uncomfortably, exchanging tense glances. Owen’s lips parted, but he quickly looked down, failing to find his voice. Another intern stared at the floor. Becca hesitated for a long second, then murmured in a tiny voice, “This afternoon… she did buy drinks for everyone except Tessa.” The moment those words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The looks my coworkers threw in my direction grew cold and disapproving. “June usually isn’t like this.” “Maybe she’s dealing with too much stress at home lately and just snapped?” “Still, taking it out on an intern is completely out of line.” “The poor girl just started. That’s incredibly harsh.” Hearing the whispers of support, Tessa’s crying grew even louder. She looked up and caught me watching. For a split second, a flash of pure triumph gleamed in her eyes. Her look said it all: See? I can make everyone turn on you in a heartbeat. I stood my ground, making no move to defend myself. Sometimes, simply shouting the truth doesn’t work. You have to let the lie balloon to its absolute limit before popping it with a single, sharp needle. I walked over, wrapping my knuckles against a nearby desk to get their attention. “Since everyone is gathered here, this is perfect.” The crowd turned to look at me. Tessa sniffled loudly, quickly speaking over me. “June, I know you don’t like me. But did you really have to humiliate me like this? I’m just an intern.” I stared at her, my expression blank. “Are you finished?” She choked on her words, momentarily stunned. I lifted the folder in my hand, my voice remarkably calm. “Thomas just finished giving me my briefing.” “I will be personally conducting the evaluations for all the interns’ full-time offers.”

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My online boyfriend got the wrong girl. He handed the bouquet of bluebells meant for me straight to my college roommate. The rumor mill was working overtime. Everyone on campus was whispering about how the hottest guy in the pre-med program was chasing the beautiful star of the dance department. But nobody knew the truth. Bluebell was my screen name. And Noah was the online boyfriend I had never actually met in person. Just that night, we were on a voice call. His deep, raspy groans came through my headphones as he complained about feeling sick. My face burned hot, and I softly told him to drink some water. He let out a low, teasing laugh. “Babe, you already accepted my flowers. Why are you acting so shy now?” That was when it hit me. I hadn’t told him yet that he gave them to the wrong person. Before I could even get the words out, a video call request popped up on my screen. In my panic, my thumb slipped. I accepted it. A pair of gorgeous, slightly red rimmed eyes appeared on the screen. The moment he got a clear look at my face, he froze. A flash of utter confusion crossed his features. Then, the call dropped. A few seconds later, a text lit up my screen. [I’m so sorry. I got the wrong person.] 01 I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I typed back. [It’s totally fine. We never knew what the other person looked like anyway.] [Fiona is my roommate. It makes sense that you got the wrong dorm info.] He didn’t reply. Leaving me alone with my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. Noah and I had been dating online for exactly a year. I scrolled up through our chat history. It stopped at yesterday. Noah: [Tomorrow is our one year anniversary. I’ve got a little surprise for you.] Bluebell: [Oh wow, what is it?] Noah: [Don’t worry about it.] Noah: [Just wait.] I never expected him to send me flowers. I definitely never expected him to mistake Fiona for me. And I certainly never expected him to suddenly FaceTime me. Staring at the call log that lasted barely three seconds, I groaned and pulled at my hair. I had just gotten out of the shower. My hair was a frizzy bird’s nest, and I was wearing a massively oversized, faded cartoon t-shirt. Did I give him a terrible first impression? Thinking back to those stunning eyes on the screen, I bit my lip. Even his eyes were breathtaking. My phone vibrated with a rapid succession of texts. Noah: [No.] Noah: [I really did get the wrong person.] Noah: [Her name is Fiona, isn’t it?] Noah: [I saw a picture of her a while ago.] Noah: [I asked around for her number, but somehow I was given yours instead.] Noah: [I thought you were her this whole time.] My racing heart just stopped. The messages came through so fast. My eyes read the words before my brain could even process the gravity of them. I sat there in pure shock for a solid ten minutes. Only then did the heavy, suffocating truth sink in. Noah did get the wrong person. But he didn’t mistake Fiona for me. He mistook me for her. From the very beginning, the moment he sent that first friend request, he thought he was talking to the gorgeous Fiona. In a total daze, I scrolled all the way back to the very start of our chat. Noah: [Sent you a request like three times. Finally.] Noah: [Hey, I’m Noah. Pre-med student from the campus next door.] He really had added me multiple times. I was just a freshman back then, fresh out of a dead end town. The first time I saw his request, I thought it was a scam and ignored it. Second time, ignored. Third time, ignored. Until he added a note. [We go to the same school.] That was when I finally accepted. When I found out he actually went to the neighboring university, I asked him what he wanted. He replied: [I saw the photos from the freshman outdoor retreat. You looked amazing dancing around the campfire.] During that retreat, I had been randomly picked to do a talent showcase. I danced. After that, he started texting me all the time. He was effortlessly funny and never made things awkward. I was introverted, terrible at keeping conversations alive, and constantly killed the mood. I thought he would get annoyed and ghost me. Instead, he sent a cute meme of a cat squishing its cheeks. Noah: [So this is just how you are, huh?] Noah: [It’s cute.] It turned out, the entire foundation of us was built on a mistake. The dorm door clicked open. Fiona walked in clutching a beautiful bouquet of bluebells, flanked by our other two roommates. Jenna looked at her with pure envy. “I heard Noah is drop dead gorgeous. You must have gotten a good look at him when he gave you the flowers. Spill it, how hot is he?” Fiona tossed the flowers onto her desk. She grabbed a makeup wipe and shrugged. “You know those guys you only ever see on Instagram or in movies?” “He’s hotter than them.” Jenna let out a high pitched squeal. “Oh my god!” “Fiona, come on, why did he give you flowers? Did he ask you out? Tell me he asked you to be his girlfriend!” Fiona clicked her tongue. “You guys are so nosy.” “Drop it, he didn’t say anything. I was just walking through the campus gates, he shoved the flowers into my arms, and walked away.” Becca clapped her hands together. “Wow, he was probably just too nervous to talk to you.” Laying in my bed, listening to them giggle and gossip. A dense, bitter ache spread through my chest. Even the back of my throat burned. My phone buzzed again. Noah: [I’m really sorry for bothering you all this time.] Noah: [Since she’s your roommate, do you have her number or her socials?] Noah: [Could you send them to me?] 02 I wanted to say no. I wanted to ask him what the hell we were supposed to be then. Did we break up, or are we just pretending the last year never happened? My fingers trembled as I typed out sentence after sentence. And then, letter by letter, I deleted them all. Tears finally spilled hot down my cheeks as I typed a single word. [Okay.] I copied Fiona’s contact card and sent it to him. Logically, I should have asked Fiona for permission first. But it felt like my throat was packed with cotton. I was in too much pain to utter a single syllable. I put my phone on silent, tossed it aside, and buried myself completely under my blankets. Fiona walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking at her screen. “Wait, someone just added me.” Jenna rushed over. “The username is Noah.” “Holy crap, it has to be him!” Fiona looked genuinely confused. “How did he even get my number?” Becca laughed. “Is it really that hard to believe? He probably asked everyone on campus for it.” “Accept it! I bet you anything he’s going to ask you out right now!” Fiona playfully shoved them. “Back off, creeps! Give me some space.” Through the slight gap in my bed curtains, I watched her. She stood there, holding her phone with both hands. The tips of her ears were flushed pink. She was wearing a silk slip dress that perfectly hugged every curve of her body. This was the kind of girl Noah was supposed to fall for. I pictured how I must have looked on that video call just an hour ago. An absolute disaster. Even if Noah hadn’t gotten the wrong girl, there was no way he would ever like someone as plain and messy as me. When I woke up the next morning, I was sick. My head was pounding with a heavy, thick fog. When I tried to sit up, my limbs felt like lead. The dorm was already empty. I wasn’t surprised. I had never really fit in with their little trio. When I was in the room, I might as well have been a piece of furniture. Nobody ever thought to check on me. So naturally, nobody noticed that the girl who usually woke up at the crack of dawn was still in bed past noon. I forced myself up and dragged my body toward the campus clinic. Halfway down the stairs, my legs simply gave out. I tumbled down the concrete steps. The students at the bottom screamed. When it rains, it pours. Not only did I have a raging fever, but I also managed to fracture my leg. Our campus clinic wasn’t equipped for X-rays, so the dean called the neighboring medical university. They hauled me over to their advanced clinic on a stretcher. It was humiliating. I was burning up and half conscious, yet my main concern was still dying of embarrassment. Eventually, the darkness pulled me under. Right before I completely passed out, I could have sworn those eyes from the video screen materialized right in front of me. When I woke up, my throat was completely parched. “Water…” My voice sounded like dry gravel. As soon as I spoke, I clamped my mouth shut. “Haha.” A low, vibrating laugh filled the room. A terrifyingly familiar sound. A sound so familiar it almost triggered a panic attack. I whipped my head to the side and saw a guy sitting right next to my hospital bed. The moment our eyes met, I knew exactly who he was. Noah held a cup of water with a straw, leaning in close. He smirked. “You usually sound so soft and sweet on the phone. Get a little fever and suddenly you sound like a dying duck.” I froze. My brain completely short-circuited. He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Not thirsty? Or do you need me to physically feed it to you?” I snatched the cup from him. I drained it in seconds. Lowering my head, I mumbled, “Thanks.” A heavy, warm hand gently patted the top of my head. He took the empty cup from my grip. Seeing me staring blankly at the fresh cast on my leg, he sighed. “Are you an idiot? You had a massive fever and you still tried to walk? What do you think cell phones are for?” “Now look at you. Broken leg.” “You’re a dance major. Do you not realize how important your legs are?” His tone was laced with irritation and worry. It was the exact same tone he used to use when I got too busy in the studio and forgot to eat dinner. A pathetic spark of hope flickered in my chest. Was he… still caring about me? I wondered if this was the right moment to ask him where we stood. Just as I gathered every ounce of courage I had, his phone pinged. With one hand, he adjusted the flow of my IV drip, and with the other, he pulled out his phone. It was a voice memo. Fiona’s voice filled the quiet room. “I don’t just hand out dates, you know. If you want me to be your girlfriend, you’re going to have to ask me in person.” “Hiding behind a screen isn’t going to cut it.” 03 “Heh. She’s got an attitude.” A smile played on his lips. He looked up, and his eyes met mine. We both froze. We looked away at the exact same time. The silence that followed was suffocating. Under the blankets, my fingernails were digging so hard into my palms they were practically drawing blood. Noah broke the silence first. “Riley.” He never used to call me by my real name. That single word clarified exactly where we stood. He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about the mix up. I know it caused you a lot of trouble.” “It was a terrible mistake, and I hope you aren’t holding it against me.” “Let’s just look at it as making a good friend to talk to.” “Yeah?” A mistake. Terrible. A friend. An entire year of late night talks, inside jokes, and falling in love, summed up in three pathetic words. I kept my eyes glued to the blanket. I nodded once. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t speak. He stood up. “Your IV is done. I’ll drive you back.” I wanted to tell him no. But I looked down at the heavy plaster on my leg. I pictured myself trying to hop back across campus alone. I caved. Noah was strong. He scooped me up effortlessly and carried me to his car. Pressed against his chest, my hands hovered awkwardly. I didn’t know where to hold on, so I ended up tightly gripping the fabric of my own faded shirt. He smelled incredible. It was that crisp citrus scent I had once told him was my absolute favorite. My stupid, traitorous heart hammered against his chest. His voice rumbled right next to my ear. The voice that used to live exclusively in my headphones was right here in the physical world. The only difference was the tone. In my headphones, he was sweet, needy, and deeply affectionate. Now, he was just rattling off medical instructions on how to keep the cast dry. I barely absorbed a word he said. My mind was a complete wreck. He carried me all the way to my dorm room door. He didn’t step inside. But he didn’t leave either. Leaning against the doorframe, I quietly said, “Thank you for the ride.” He pulled out his phone to check the time. “No problem. It was on the way.” My heart sank straight to the bottom of the ocean. I realized he was waiting for Fiona. And I had been foolish enough to think he went out of his way just to make sure I got home safe. I turned around and limped into the room. It took everything in me to climb up into my bed. My hand slipped, and my knuckles slammed hard against the bed frame. The sharp sting brought fresh tears to my eyes. Right then, Fiona’s surprised voice echoed from the hallway. “Noah! What are you doing here?” “Waiting for you.” Noah’s voice was warm, dripping with that familiar smile. “Be my girlfriend? I’ll wait for you every day.” Pure instinct made me slap both hands over my ears. But I still heard her answer. “I’d love that, boyfriend.” The hot pre-med student officially bagged the beautiful dancer. The news blew up across every campus group chat. I took a week off to recover in my dorm. Even though I didn’t step outside, I couldn’t escape the endless updates about Fiona and Noah. Someone posted a picture of Fiona practicing in the studio, with Noah leaning casually against the doorframe, watching her with a soft smile. Another showed Noah dominating a soccer game, while Fiona sat in the bleachers holding his water bottle. There were candids of them holding hands, strolling side by side under the campus oak trees. … These were all the things Noah had promised me. He had told me that as soon as we met in person, the first thing he wanted was to watch me dance. He wanted me to cheer for him at his games. He wanted to hold my hand and walk around campus. I was the one he dated for a year. But she was the one living out our promises. And I was the one left completely broken. I stared at his contact, still pinned to the very top of my messages. The icon that used to pop up with a good morning text every single day. I pressed down on it, hovering over the delete button. I thought about the thousands of messages we shared over the last year. I couldn’t do it. I just unpinned him. Once he was unpinned, his name sank further and further down my inbox. It was only then I realized that the guy who used to tell me goodnight every single evening hadn’t sent me a single word in almost a week. When it was time to get my cast off, I saw Noah at the clinic again. His buddy was giving him a hard time. “Whoa, the guy who’s been MIA for a week playing boyfriend actually showed up to the clinic?” “Did you really come all the way down here just to take a cast off a freshman?” I was sitting in the examination room, separated from them by a thin curtain. I heard Noah’s voice. “Do me a favor. When she gets here, tell her she needs to keep it on for a couple more days.” His friend sounded confused. “Why? You’re the one who put the cast on her, and you literally said she was cleared to take it off today.” “Just drop it,” Noah said flatly. “Make up some excuse. Tell her the bone isn’t fully set yet. Make her wait two days.” “The intercollegiate dance competition is the day after tomorrow, and Fiona is competing.” 04 I wanted to rip the curtain open. But I didn’t have the guts. I listened to his friend refuse. “Hell no, I’m not doing that. You tell her yourself, she’s right in…” “Fine, I’ll tell her.” Noah cut him off and walked right out of the clinic. The curtain slid back. The med student looked at me, his face turning an awful shade of red. Choking back the lump in my throat, I asked quietly, “If you take the cast off today, and I practice for the next two days… will I permanently damage my leg?” He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled up my chart. “Your fracture was just a hairline. Honestly, you’re fine to move on it.” My phone vibrated. Noah, who hadn’t spoken to me in a week, sent two texts back to back. [Hey, I took another look at your X-rays. I highly recommend leaving the cast on for a few more days.] [It’ll ensure everything heals perfectly without complications.] I stared at the screen for a long, long time. Then I pressed his name, and hit ‘Delete Chat’. “Please take the cast off. I’d really appreciate it,” I told the med student. Once I was freed from the plaster, Professor Carter texted me, asking if my leg was okay and if I was still doing the showcase. I typed back. [I’m stepping out, Professor. Please withdraw my name.] When it came to contemporary lyrical dance, I was leagues ahead of Fiona. She had never once beaten my scores. Noah lied straight to my face just to clear the path for her. If he wanted Fiona to take first place that badly, I’d give it to him. I guess I could consider it payment for all the nights he stayed up comforting me over the past year. While Fiona was busy going on dates and rehearsing for her guaranteed win, I was busy expediting my visa. A week ago, before the whole wrong-girl disaster happened, I was nominated for a highly exclusive exchange program in London. At the time, my head was in the clouds. I was dreaming of finally meeting Noah, going on cute campus dates, and living out a romance. I had fully planned on rejecting the offer. Thankfully, Professor Carter had refused to accept my ‘no’ and told me to sleep on it. Three days ago, I officially submitted my acceptance. In one week, I’d be leaving the country for two years. The night of the dance competition, Fiona stole the show. She took home the grand prize. We had a celebratory dinner with the department that night. She walked into the restaurant absolutely glowing, hand-in-hand with Noah. “Just making it official for everyone,” she beamed. “This is my boyfriend, Noah. He wanted to take me out to celebrate. Hope you guys don’t mind him crashing!” The table erupted into cheers and catcalls. I sat quietly in the corner, focused entirely on cracking open a crab leg. Just as I was about to take a bite. Fiona suddenly called my name out in front of everyone. “Hey Riley, haven’t you been dating your online boyfriend for a year now?” “Didn’t you say you guys were finally going to meet up for your anniversary?” “How did that go?” I froze completely. Everyone at the table turned to look at me. “Wait, seriously? People still do the whole online dating thing?” “No way. Riley is so quiet, she’s the last person I’d expect to have a secret internet boyfriend.” Fiona laughed casually. “Oh, it’s true. I didn’t know either at first, but every single night she’d get back to the dorm, put her headphones on, and talk to him until she fell asleep.” “A few months ago, he even ordered a massive snow crab boil to be delivered to our room. She didn’t even know how to use the shell crackers. I had to teach her.” The looks being thrown my way suddenly shifted. Judgment dripped from their eyes. “What kind of internet boyfriend buys expensive seafood? Probably some creepy sugar daddy. Those guys love preying on naive college girls online.” “I mean, Riley grew up in the middle of nowhere, right? Girls from those depressed towns are super easy to manipulate. Flash a little cash and they’ll call you daddy. Hell, they probably did meet up.” “Yeah, if he’s spending that kind of money, she’s definitely already put out.” An indescribable knot exploded in my chest. Anger, humiliation, and a suffocating wave of injustice. When I didn’t say anything, the girl next to me shoved my shoulder. “Come on, Riley, cat got your tongue?” “Is your internet guy some middle-aged creep or a fat basement dweller?” “He’s spent a lot on you, hasn’t he? You guys already slept together?” “Who knew the innocent little wallflower was such a slut behind closed doors.” SMASH. A heavy glass bottle shattered violently against the floor. A strong hand clamped down tight on my wrist. I looked up into Noah’s freezing, furious eyes. “Shut your mouths!”

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I lied about my age and ended up in an online relationship with a gorgeous guy six years older than me. I never expected him to be such a walking contradiction. In public, he was cold and aloof, but online, he was completely shameless, whispering the dirtiest things. In his most intense moments, he even told me he wanted to be my puppy, completely at my mercy. Eventually, his clinginess got to be too much for me. The day I broke things off, I blocked him on every single platform. Months later, I was crashing at my best friend’s place when I ran into her older brother. Looking at his detached, utterly cynical face, a strange sense of familiarity hit me. As I stared, my best friend’s voice snapped me out of my daze. “Don’t bother drooling over him. My brother hates girls who throw themselves at him.” “Ever since some girl dumped him online, he’s been in a permanent foul mood. He’d probably kick a puppy if it walked past him.” I froze, a sudden chill running down my spine. I couldn’t help but test the waters. “So… your brother’s name wouldn’t happen to be Atlas, would it?” 1 “Shut up! How on earth did you know that?” My best friend, Cici, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at me in absolute shock. If I had held onto a tiny shred of hope before asking, it was officially dead now. Not only had my anonymous online ex turned out to be my best friend’s brother, but we had crossed paths again six months after a brutal breakup. The odds of this happening had to be lower than winning the lottery. Before I could panic, Cici waved her hand dismissively, already rationalizing it. “Actually, never mind. We basically share a brain. I must have mentioned his name to you at some point.” As she kept ramming on, I stood frozen, my mind racing. The realization that I was currently sharing a roof with Atlas made my heart hammer against my ribs. I couldn’t help but recall our encounter an hour ago. When Cici first brought me to her house, Atlas had just descended the stairs. He was wearing a silk robe, the faint outline of veins tracing up his neck. There was an effortless, aristocratic elegance to him, mixed with a sleepy, dangerous kind of sex appeal. I had stared at him, feeling an inexplicable pull of familiarity. But when Atlas looked at me, he merely offered a cold, polite nod. His dark, aloof eyes swept over me without a single flicker of emotion, treating me as nothing more than his little sister’s random college friend. I never could have connected this incredibly proper, high-society man with the wild, shameless guy I dated online. Online Atlas was a menace. He talked dirty without a shred of hesitation, calling me his baby and his girl every five minutes, his possessiveness practically dripping through the screen. Back then, I was young and completely naive about relationships. He used to fluster me so badly that I’d have to get out of bed in the middle of the night just to splash cold water on my face. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice casual. “So, has your brother dated many people before?” Cici let out a soft laugh. “Just one, and it was entirely online. Honestly, I think he fell hard. He was head over heels for her, but the girl dumped him out of nowhere. Cut him off completely.” She sighed, shaking her head. “His temper has been absolutely miserable for the last six months.” She patted my shoulder reassuringly. “If he acts like a jerk while you’re staying here, don’t take it personally. He hates everyone equally these days.” 2 The next morning, Cici’s mother called us down for breakfast. Atlas was already sitting across from me at the dining table. He moved with an effortless, aristocratic grace, using his fork and knife with slow, deliberate precision. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting toward him. Almost instantly, as if sensing my gaze, Atlas looked up. Our eyes locked, and he arched an eyebrow in mild amusement. My heart did a violent flip. Even after I hurriedly looked down, I could still feel his dark eyes burning into me, refusing to let me go. “Daisy, sweetheart, try the French toast. It’s my specialty,” Cici’s mother, Mrs. Sheng, said warmly, bringing me back to reality. I had always been good at pleasing adults. With a few sweet compliments, I had Mrs. Sheng beaming and laughing in no time. “Just make yourself at home these next few days. Don’t be shy about anything,” she insisted. “Thank you, Mrs. Sheng,” I smiled. I comforted myself with the thought that even if we were staying under the same roof, there was no way Atlas could connect me to his online ex. My anxiety was probably unnecessary. I just needed to act natural. Gradually, the conversation shifted toward Atlas. From what Mrs. Sheng was saying, she had recently set him up with a girl from another prominent family. But Atlas’s responses remained entirely cold and detached. “Mom, I told you I’m not interested,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “I’ve only met her twice. I barely even remember what she looks like. What do you expect me to say?” Mrs. Sheng rolled her eyes, putting her fork down with a heavy sigh. “You reject every single girl I introduce to you. I don’t know when that stubborn head of yours is going to wake up. You’re in your mid-twenties, you don’t date, and honestly, sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with you.” Cici let out a sudden snort next to me, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. “Mom, I can guarantee there is absolutely nothing wrong with his preferences,” Cici chimed in, raising three fingers in a mock solemn vow. “He’s just had a rocky road in love. The girl he’s waiting for is just a bit of a flighty wild card, that’s all.” Mrs. Sheng shot her a warning glare. I, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to bury my face in my plate. I kept completely silent, praying they wouldn’t drag me into it. But of course, fate had other plans. “Daisy.” Atlas’s cool, deep voice sliced through the chatter. I jumped, nearly dropping my fork. It was just a simple pronunciation of my name, but the vibration of his voice sent an involuntary shiver straight down my spine. Before I could process why I was reacting this way, his dark eyes fixed on me, filled with an unreadable, probing intensity. “Why do you look so guilty?” he asked softly. “Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” My brain stalled. My cheeks went pale, and I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Fortunately, Mrs. Sheng stepped in to rescue me. “Don’t be rude, Atlas. Daisy is our guest. Don’t intimidate her.” Cici laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “Wow, look at that. I only mentioned Daisy’s name once, and you already remembered it.” Amidst the teasing, I kept my head down, missing the way Atlas’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me. 3 Cici ended up catching a mild fever after breakfast, so she took some medicine and went upstairs to sleep. I spent the morning doing some practice exams. When I went downstairs to grab a glass of water, I saw Mrs. Sheng putting on her coat, preparing to head out. Out of politeness, I asked where she was going. “It’s that boy of mine,” Mrs. Sheng said, offering a helpless smile. “Atlas left for the office in such a hurry that he forgot his quarterly reports. I need to drop them off at his office. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. He’s usually never this careless.” My hands moved faster than my brain. Almost instinctively, I grabbed her arm before she could open the door. “Why don’t I go instead, Mrs. Sheng? You should stay and rest.” “Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” she replied, startled. I smiled and shook my head. “It’s really no trouble. Honestly, I’m just looking for an excuse to get some fresh air.” If I had one strong suit, it was knowing how to be a helpful guest. Since my family lived in a different city, Mrs. Sheng had been incredibly generous in letting me stay here. I felt guilty just lounging around without contributing. Unable to argue with my persistence, Mrs. Sheng eventually yielded and sent the office address to my phone. Settling into the back of a cab, I couldn’t resist searching Atlas’s name online. The public profile of him was remarkably consistent: ruthless in business, decisive, and entirely unyielding. It was almost impossible to associate a man like that with online dating. When we first met, I was a senior in high school, dealing with my parents’ sudden divorce. Life was overwhelming, and I turned to online gaming to escape the stress. That was where I met him. I figured an online relationship was harmless. It gave me a quick dose of dopamine to keep me going. But for safety, I lied about my age, claiming I had just graduated from college, and I never used my real name. Unlike most online couples, I never sent photos. Whenever he tried to video call, I declined. The only thing I agreed to was a strict thirty-minute voice call every night. Despite my rigid rules, Atlas spoiled me completely. He constantly tried to send me money and shared every detail of his day, no matter how trivial. Whenever I saw the absurdly large transfers he tried to send, I immediately returned them. I was only looking for emotional support. Since I knew we had no future, I wasn’t about to take his money. But over time, Atlas became incredibly attached. One day, he suddenly demanded we meet in person. At that point, my final exams were only two weeks away. Meeting up was out of the question. After thinking it over for a long night, I sent him a cold message: There’s no point in us meeting. I’m getting bored of this. Let’s end it. Right after hitting send, I blocked and deleted him everywhere, leaving absolutely no trace. I had assumed that after so much time, a man of his stature would have forgotten about a brief digital fling. But from the way Cici talked, it seemed he still carried the scar. 4 This was my first time visiting Atlas’s workplace. As the receptionist guided me toward the private elevator to the top floor, she casually mentioned that he owned the entire building. No wonder he used to throw money around so easily back then. The wealth gap between us was staggering. Ding. The elevator doors slid open, and my eyes locked with Atlas’s. Standing against the bright floor-to-ceiling windows, his sharp features looked exceptionally striking. The sheer authority he exuded caught my breath. He seemed to have just wrapped up a meeting. A group of senior executives, all much older than him, followed behind him, yet none of them could match his presence. He was a natural-born leader. The hallway fell quiet. A few executives glanced between us, their eyes filled with quiet curiosity. “Mr. Sheng, who is this?” one of them asked, his tone laced with subtle intrigue. Atlas’s dark eyes rested on me for a fraction of a second. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, subtly shielding me from their prying gazes. “A friend,” he answered smoothly. I blinked, slightly startled. Why friend? Why not his sister’s classmate? “Mr. Sheng, this lady brought the documents you left behind,” the receptionist explained. Atlas gave a brief nod. “Understood. Take her to my office first.” He pressed the elevator button, clearly still occupied with work. I bit my lip, thinking quickly. I decided to hand the folder straight to the receptionist. “Since the documents are delivered, I’ll head out. Don’t let me disrupt your work.” But as I turned to leave, a firm grip caught my wrist. Atlas held my arm, his voice dropping to a low, quiet register. “Did I say you could leave?” My steps halted. Because of the proximity, the scent of him washed over me, a clean, crisp fragrance of pine and cold winter air. I couldn’t move. The place where his fingers brushed against my skin felt warm and tingling, sending a strange shiver through me. He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. “Go wait in my office. I need to talk to you.” 5 I had no idea what Atlas wanted to discuss. As far as he was concerned, our only connection was his sister. His unusual behavior was starting to make me incredibly nervous. By the time his assistant came in to refresh my coffee for the third time, my anxiety had peaked. Just then, the heavy double doors pushed open. Atlas walked in, the coldness in his eyes softening slightly the moment he saw me sitting on the sofa. He walked straight toward me. “Mr. Sheng,” I said, standing up quickly, feeling incredibly out of place. For some reason, a shadow passed over his dark eyes, though it vanished just as quickly. “Sit,” he said softly. “You don’t work for me. You don’t need to call me that.” His office was massive, but being alone with him made the space feel incredibly small. I cleared my throat, testing the waters. “So… is there something you needed me for?” “Do you have your phone on you?” he asked, ignoring my question with an air of quiet authority. I blinked, nodding slowly. “Let’s exchange contact details. I’ll venmo you for your travel expenses.” My jaw nearly dropped. Was a powerful CEO really handling a simple cab fare reimbursement personally? “No, really, that’s not necessary,” I said, shaking my head. “It was just a quick ride. Besides, I’m staying at your place rent-free anyway.” “Those are two different things,” Atlas countered, his gaze fixed on me. He tapped his fingers slowly against his desk. “I don’t like owing people favors.” I opened my mouth to decline again, but a sudden thought made me freeze. Why was he being so incredibly persistent? Could he actually suspect something? As his sister’s college friend, there was absolutely no logical reason for him to demand my contact details. The only explanation was that he had a suspicion. I forced myself to stay calm. There’s no way, I told myself. I left zero clues. How could he possibly suspect me? As I opened my messaging app to display my QR code, I noticed his fingers tremble slightly. It was as if he were holding his breath, desperately hoping for something. But the moment he scanned it, his expression froze. He stared at his screen for what felt like an eternity, even going so far as to scroll through my public posts. Eventually, the tension drained out of his shoulders, and he let out a slow, deflated breath. I quietly exhaled. The only reason I had agreed to let him scan my code so easily was because I had completely abandoned my old social media account after graduation. My current profile looked entirely different from my old one. There was nothing here that could link me to his ex. Still, seeing that his profile picture was still the matching couple’s icon we had chosen together, a dull ache bloomed in my chest. We had been apart for six months, and he hadn’t even bothered to change it. The silence in the office grew heavy and suffocating. Atlas looked up at me, his voice raw. “Is there really nothing you want to tell me?” “No,” I replied, forcing a polite, empty smile as I stood up. “It’s getting late. I should probably get going.” If I stayed any longer, I was going to crack. “Wait,” his voice called out from behind me, sending a sudden shiver down my spine. He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “I’ll have my driver take you back.” 6 The amount Atlas sent me for “cab fare” was enough to cover my transportation for an entire month. I ended up keeping it, realizing that arguing over it would only make things awkward, and a sum like that was pocket change to him anyway. Still, every interaction with him left me incredibly wound up. When I had walked out of his office, the eyes of the entire top floor had been glued to me. I had even overheard a few staff members whispering, speculating about my relationship with their notorious boss. That gossip was a cold splash of reality. He was Atlas Sheng. He was used to being respected, pursued, and admired. A man like him would never tolerate being lied to and played. Since I couldn’t handle the consequences of being exposed, my only option was to keep the secret buried forever. By the time I pulled myself out of my thoughts, the car had already entered the private residential estate. For the next two days, Atlas didn’t return home. Mrs. Sheng mentioned he owned several apartments closer to downtown and rarely stayed at the main estate during the busy season. Not having to face him was a massive relief. With Cici fully recovered from her fever, she was practically climbing the walls with cabin fever. “Daisy, it’s Brody’s birthday today,” she said, leaning against my desk. “A bunch of our old high school friends are getting together tonight. Want to come with?” Brody was a mutual friend of ours from high school who ended up going to the same university as us. We ran in the same social circles. Thinking a night out would help clear my head, I agreed. The sun was just beginning to set when we left the estate. We met up with the group outside a restaurant in a trendy downtown plaza. Brody and the others were already waiting by the entrance, laughing and talking. When Brody spotted me, his eyes visibly brightened. “Daisy! I told you guys you didn’t have to bring gifts.” I smiled, handing him a neatly wrapped box. “Not a chance. You got me such an expensive gift for my birthday. If I didn’t return the gesture, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” I had picked out a classic watch for him. Brody took it, a brief, slightly disappointed expression crossing his face before he quickly masked it. “You really never let me do anything nice for you, do you? Always keeping score.” I offered a polite smile, pretending not to understand the underlying meaning in his words. Suddenly, Cici draped an arm over my shoulder, looking between Brody and me with a mischievous grin. “So, Brody, whose gift do you like more? Mine or Daisy’s?” The group burst into quiet, teasing laughter. Brody’s ears flushed deep crimson, and he kept stealing glances at me. Before he could find his voice, Cici gave a knowing nod. “Right, right, I get it. Our Daisy always knows exactly what you like.” I nudged Cici in the ribs with my elbow, dragging her toward the entrance while keeping my voice down. “You know I don’t feel that way about Brody. Stop teasing like that. What if he takes it seriously?” Seeing how flustered I was, Cici giggled. “Honestly, Brody is cute, and he’s totally devoted to you. Why don’t I like him?” Her question caught me off guard. For a split second, Atlas’s cold, handsome face flashed in my mind, causing me to shake my head violently. “Feelings aren’t a math equation,” I muttered. “If the spark isn’t there, you can’t force it.” Seeing how resistant I was, Cici squeezed my arm. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop playing matchmaker. I promise.”

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Audrey and I were known in the legal community as the ultimate courtroom rivals. The internet had tried for years to get us to face off in court. But as top-tier lawyers, we weren’t about to sabotage our own firm’s reputation. Six years of public pleading, six years of disappointment. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Same academic pedigree, same undefeated record, even our calculating, step-by-step courtroom style was identical. Until today. I was organizing case files in the mediation room when she walked in with the defendant. In that moment, I realized my fiancée had taken a case against my client. She sat across from me with a faint, almost imperceptible air of arrogance. “Graham, give up. You can’t win this. There’s no need to ruin the reputation you’ve spent years building over a single case.” I looked up at her, slowly putting down my pen. “Who says I’m going to lose?” The defendant sitting next to her, a young man, suddenly reached out and gently tugged her sleeve. I stared at the watch on his wrist, my pupils contracting. Audrey, who had just returned from an international trip last night, had gifted me a pair of cufflinks. They were a complimentary gift that came with that exact luxury watch. 1 During the hearing, I found myself losing focus. Audrey was presenting her evidence, her expression grave and professional. Liam sat beside her, idly playing with his watch strap as if he were bored. A burning sensation spread through my chest. I felt a sudden urge to rip off the cufflinks I was wearing. Audrey stood up, placing a document on the table in front of me. “The defense requests a preliminary clarification on the nature of the debt dispute. The plaintiff deliberately concealed her financial liabilities, which constitutes fraud.” Her voice was steady, smoothly transitioning from the mutual intent of the loan to the chain of evidence, from legal precedents to the burden of proof. But none of the evidence she was presenting had been included in our pre-trial discovery exchange. “Objection,” I said, rising to my feet. My voice sounded heavier than I intended. “Opposing counsel failed to exchange this set of evidence prior to the trial as required by civil procedure rules.” Audrey cast a brief glance at me, turning to the judge with absolute composure. “Your Honor, this evidence was only obtained by my team late last night. We had no time to exchange it, and we respectfully request the court’s discretion to admit it.” The judge admitted the evidence. Left with no choice, I requested a recess under the guise of reviewing the new material. As I walked out of the courtroom, Audrey caught up with me. “I told you before, you can’t win this,” she said, stopping a few paces away. Her tone was entirely confident. “A trial isn’t a law school exam. You don’t win just by memorizing the rules.” As the underlying meaning of her words settled in, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “So, you win by being deeply familiar with your client’s personal life instead?” Audrey’s face darkened instantly. Just then, Liam sauntered over. The moment Audrey saw him, the coldness in her eyes softened. Liam stopped in front of me, his posture carrying a subtle, defensive stubbornness. “Mr. Barrett, Paige is a fraud. She lied about her finances before we married and forced me to bail her out. Are you really going to defend a woman like that?” “As a lawyer, shouldn’t you be fighting for justice? We’re just trying to protect ourselves from being financially exploited. Paige might have paid you an exorbitant fee, but are you really going to watch my life get ruined just for the money?” His voice was soft, making him sound like the victim, yet every word was designed to paint me in the worst light possible. The reporters who had been waiting outside immediately swarmed us, thrusting microphones into my face. “Mr. Barrett, is what Mr. Liam says true? Did your client pay you a fee far above the industry standard? Did you solicit that amount?” 2 “Mr. Barrett, both you and Ms. Pierce have maintained undefeated records since the start of your careers. However, your case volume is significantly lower than hers. Facing off against her directly today, are you under immense pressure?” “We heard you struggled during the opening statements. Is it because you’re taking it easy on your fiancée?” I forced myself to remain calm. In the next second, Audrey stepped in front of me, shielding me from the cameras. “Apologies, but we will not be answering any questions while this case is active. Please excuse us.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the parking garage. To keep the reporters from following, she pushed me into the passenger seat of her car. It was only then that I noticed Liam was already sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned around to look at me, a perfectly calculated look of apology on his face. “Mr. Barrett, there were so many reporters out there that I panicked and jumped in first. I usually sit in the front, I hope you don’t mind?” Before I could speak, Audrey reached over and playfully tapped the back of his head. “Just sit still and behave yourself,” she said softly. He smiled and turned back around, though our eyes occasionally met in the rearview mirror. For the entire drive, the car was filled with Liam’s voice. He pointed out expensive sports cars on the road, excitedly urging Audrey to look. When we passed an exclusive, members-only restaurant, he eagerly listed his favorite dishes from their menu. I had always believed Audrey disliked talkative men. Yet sitting in the back seat, I could clearly see the faint smile on her lips and hear her occasional, quiet laughter. I unlocked my phone and opened our chat history. Our last message was from a week ago. She had texted me saying she was flying out of the country for a business trip. I scrolled up further. The pictures of stray cats I had shared, the sudden rainstorm, the new coffee shop downstairs, she hadn’t replied to any of them, not even with a single punctuation mark. I closed my eyes, feeling incredibly weary. She dropped me off at my building, standing by the door to tell me to get some rest. “Since we’re on opposing sides of this trial, it’s not appropriate for us to live together. I won’t be coming back here for the next few days.” As she turned to leave, I reached out and caught her sleeve, finally asking the question that had been burning in my chest. “You and him… when did it start?” 3 “What?” “You and Liam.” She froze, then let out a soft, dismissive scoff. “Are you seriously throwing wild accusations at me just because you’re losing the case?” When I didn’t respond, she reached out to touch my arm, her face tightening with impatience. “Stop overthinking. There’s nothing going on. He’s just a client.” Before she could finish, her phone buzzed. The name on the screen read: Liam. Her brow furrowed slightly. She instinctively turned her body away from me and answered. Liam’s soft, strained voice came through the speaker. “Audrey, my stomach is acting up again…” Audrey’s fingers tightened around her phone. “Hold on. I’m on my way.” She hung up and turned around immediately, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she rushed toward the elevator. She didn’t offer a single word of explanation. This was the man she called a mere client. I closed the door, looked around the empty apartment, and began to pack up, forcing the chaotic thoughts out of my mind. The next morning, I arrived at the firm as usual. The moment I walked into my office, the head of finance was already waiting for me. “Mr. Barrett, the petty cash Ms. Pierce withdrew last month still hasn’t been accounted for. We need to close the books by the end of the week, but I can’t reach her. I was hoping you could…” “How much did she withdraw?” “One hundred thousand dollars.” My gaze darkened. What did she need that much cash for? After dismissing the accountant, I immediately contacted a close friend of mine in banking to pull Audrey’s personal financial records. On the seventeenth of last month, she had transferred one hundred thousand dollars into a personal account belonging to a woman named Martha Jenkins. Before I could even dial Audrey’s number, my assistant knocked on the door, looking frantic. “Boss, we have a problem. A video of you and Ms. Pierce outside the courthouse yesterday went viral. The public reaction is extremely hostile toward you.” I put down my phone and took the tablet he handed me. And they called this a clash of titans? This is a total embarrassment. We waited six years for this? Graham Barrett actually calls himself a top attorney? No wonder he never dared to face Ms. Pierce in court. His undefeated record was clearly just clever marketing. Even my interns have better composure under pressure. He needs to get out of the legal profession. The comments were flooded with demands for the firm to fire me, and our official social media accounts were being hammered with abuse. Suddenly, the office door was pushed open. “Graham, you need to drop Paige’s case,” Audrey said as she walked in. Her eyes fell on the bank statements and transfer receipts spread across my desk, and her face instantly darkened. “Why do you have my financial records?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice entirely calm. “The accounting department couldn’t find you to balance the books, so they brought them to me.” Her jaw tightened. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation for this money?” I stared at her, and she instinctively avoided my gaze. “I can’t explain it to you right now. Just cover it for me from the firm’s account. It’s a personal matter, it has nothing to do with the case.” “Nothing to do with the case? Then what is it about? And who is Martha Jenkins?” Audrey’s brow furrowed deeply, and she glared at me. “Are you investigating me?” She snatched the approval form off my desk, crumpling the paper in her tight grip. “Deduct the hundred thousand from my year-end dividends. And as for Paige’s case, I’m telling you to drop it. You’ve been handling the administrative side of the firm for years and barely litigate anymore. Don’t push yourself.” I looked down at the empty desk. I remembered our college days, when we were always neck-and-neck at the top of our class, constantly competing, refusing to back down. It was through those fierce academic battles that we had grown to admire each other. When she confessed her feelings to me, I had accepted without a second thought. After graduation, we started this firm together. To allow her to focus entirely on the courtroom, I took over the management, operations, and administrative side of things. She was the face of the firm, while I secured the foundation. It had been a perfect partnership. But as her win rate climbed and her reputation grew, she began to believe the firm’s success was entirely due to her efforts, completely dismissing my contributions behind the scenes. We had argued and gone through cold wars over this. To prove myself, and to reclaim my own voice, I had agreed to represent Paige. I never expected that we would end up standing on opposing sides of the courtroom. I had wanted to have a real talk with her, but now, it seemed entirely pointless. 4 After Audrey left, I poured all my energy into the case. Taking the evidence she had presented in court, I went to meet with Paige. When Paige saw the documents detailing millions of dollars in debt, she froze. “This isn’t mine…” I pointed to the signature on the copies. “Then why is your signature here? You need to understand that if you keep hiding things, we will lose this trial. You won’t just lose everything, you’ll be saddled with a crushing debt.” Paige, who was only twenty-six, panicked. “Were these debts accumulated before your marriage?” I pressed. “Yes… but it was all for Liam,” she whimpered. “He told me his father was a heavy gambler and his mother was bedridden with a terminal illness. When we were dating, his father came to our door demanding money multiple times. I felt so sorry for him that I…” I listened to her explanation, a strange feeling of unease settling in. “Do you have any proof of this?” “I can check the security camera footage at our old apartment…” While Paige went to retrieve the footage, I didn’t sit idle. I had someone pull Liam’s bank statements. His personal accounts were pristine, with no large transfers over the past five years. So, I asked my contact to look into his immediate family members. Half an hour later, I received a detailed transaction history. Starting two years ago, his mother’s account had received a total of nearly half a million dollars in various transfers. And the most recent transaction made me freeze. It was a wire transfer of one hundred thousand dollars from Audrey’s account. I let out a cold laugh. I remembered my mother’s birthday earlier this year. Audrey had gifted her a cheap glass ornament, completely unwrapped. My family’s expressions had been incredibly awkward, and I had to step in to smooth things over. Later, when we were leaving, I had asked her, “Be honest with me, did you forget my mother’s birthday?” Instead of apologizing, she had flared up in anger. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you complaining about my gift?” “You know very well that the firm’s profits only exist because I’m constantly taking cases, yet we split the money fifty-fifty.” “If I recall correctly, you bought your parents a house and a car. Even if you paid for it, a portion of that money belongs to me, doesn’t it?” “Without me securing our reputation out there, you wouldn’t even have that money.” Looking at Audrey as she meticulously kept score of our finances, I had felt a profound sense of exhaustion. She was the one who had claimed she hated administrative work, which was why I had forced myself to step back from litigation to handle operations. I had shouldered every tedious detail so she could shine. I was the one who prepared the outlines, the strategy, and the evidence folders for every single one of her cases. For five years, Liam’s case was the only one she had handled completely on her own, without my assistance. Yet, in her mind, I was merely riding her coattails. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. It was Audrey. “Graham, where are you?” I gave her the name of the restaurant I was at. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere alone.” In less than twenty minutes, her car pulled up to the curb, and she hurried inside. The moment her eyes found me, she let out a visible sigh of relief. She walked over, her heels clicking against the tile. “Don’t go out for the next few days. I saw online that some people are threatening to teach you a lesson. I’ve already had another lawyer take over Paige’s case. Just stay home until the heat dies down.” The panic in her eyes was genuine. And I knew exactly why she was so terrified. Years ago, during a dispute involving a factory layoff, a disgruntled worker had threatened me. He had tried to throw acid at my face, but Audrey had thrown herself in front of me. I had escaped unharmed, but her left arm had been severely burned, leaving a large, permanent scar. Back then, seeing the raw terror and love in her eyes had deeply moved me, filling my chest with an overwhelming warmth. Now, faced with a similar situation, I felt absolutely nothing. My heart was entirely quiet. 5 I gently brushed her hand away, my voice polite but distant. “Thank you for the concern, Ms. Pierce. But as you said, we are opposing counsel on this case. It’s not appropriate for us to meet. I won’t be dropping Paige’s case, and if anyone tries to threaten me, I will handle it myself.” Audrey stared at me, stunned. “What are you trying to prove?” I stood up slowly, looking her in the eyes. “Nothing. I just want to see this through to the end.” She grabbed my arm, her frustration finally boiling over. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re just trying to prove you can still litigate. You want to beat me to satisfy your own ego. You know you can’t win, so why push it?” I pulled my arm back. “Think what you want, but let me remind you: we are adversaries in court. Please keep your personal emotions out of this case.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Fine. If you’re so intent on ruining your own career, I won’t stop you. Just don’t regret it when you lose!” She slammed the door as she left. I paid the bill and walked out without a word. What I didn’t expect was for Liam to show up at my firm. In the coffee shop downstairs, he sat dressed in a perfectly tailored white shirt, his hair styled flawlessly. “Mr. Barrett, I know you’re keeping a tight grip on this case because you suspect something is going on between Audrey and me. But our relationship is strictly professional. Audrey has never done anything to betray you.” “You shouldn’t try to ruin my life just because of your own insecurities. Please, Mr. Barrett, show some mercy. Let me have my life back…” He stopped, his throat bobbing as if holding back a wave of deep emotion. What I didn’t realize was that he had hidden a camera in the nearby potted plant. That very night, an edited version of our conversation was uploaded online. The public outrage intensified. I was painted as a powerful, arrogant attorney using my position to bully a vulnerable young man. By four in the morning, my phone was ringing incessantly with abusive calls. “Graham Barrett, have you no shame? You couldn’t keep your own fiancée, so you’re taking it out on an innocent kid? And you call yourself a lawyer? You’re a pathetic excuse of a man.” I calmly started a recording on my laptop, set the phone aside, and let it play. This was the twelfth call tonight, and some of them were far viler. I spent the rest of the night organizing the evidence for Paige’s case to the sound of strangers hurling insults at me. By the time the sun came up, my phone had completely run out of battery. Checking the clock, I realized the trial was less than four hours away. I brewed myself a strong cup of black coffee and left to pick up Paige. The crowd outside the courthouse was several times larger than before. I slipped through the back entrance, guiding Paige quickly inside. By chance, we crossed paths with Audrey and Liam, who were entering through the main doors. Audrey paused, offering a cold smirk. “You really are insane. Are you truly willing to throw away your entire career for this?” I didn’t answer. I walked past her, heading straight for the courtroom. Before the session began, the live-stream room was already flooded with hundreds of thousands of viewers. The comment section was moving at a dizzying speed, everyone waiting to watch me fail. The judge took the bench and called the court to order. Audrey was the first to present. Her logic was seamless, her presentation flawless. Every piece of evidence she presented pointed to Paige concealing her pre-marital debts, painting her as a fraudulent spouse. When it was my turn, I presented Paige’s bank records. “First, my client did not conceal any financial liabilities. Every single debt she incurred was done under the direct manipulation of the defendant, Liam.” I handed the files to the bailiff to present to the judge. The live chat erupted. Is this guy out of his mind? This is a court of law, not a creative writing class. Is he seriously trying to claim these debts were gifts? Does he think we’re all idiots? He knows he’s going to lose, so he’s resorted to slander. How pathetic. Once the judge had reviewed the documents, I spoke again. “Furthermore, my team has acquired evidence proving that the defendant committed adultery during the marriage. And his partner was none other than his defense counsel: Audrey Pierce.”

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By the time my biological parents finally found me, I was already twenty eight years old. The fake daughter who had taken my place was living the dream as a high society socialite. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a cheap diner, getting rejected by a mediocre blind date who thought I was getting too old. It was only after I was brought back to the sprawling Sinclair estate that I learned the whole truth. Before I was even born, our families had arranged a marriage for me. But the fake daughter had married him instead. She and the heir to the wealthy Thorne fortune were madly in love. They had beautiful children together. They were the absolute golden couple of our city’s elite circle. When the truth of our switched identities came out, she was utterly consumed by guilt. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Her husband’s heart broke for her. He pulled her into his arms, swearing in front of everyone that she was the only woman he would ever love. My biological mother rushed over to comfort her, stroking her hair and promising that she would always be her one and only precious baby girl. I stood completely alone in the center of the grand foyer. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the pain was blinding. Late that night, my biological mother sat on the edge of my bed and gently urged me to let it go. To make it up to me, she promised to start looking for a suitable husband for me immediately. I stared up at the dazzling, multi million dollar crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. But for some reason, all I could think about was the dusty, flickering little lightbulb in my cramped rental apartment. I looked at her and said quietly. “Mom, I want to go home. Please let me go home.” 01 The discovery of my true identity was a complete accident. Mrs. Sinclair had traveled out to a historic countryside parish in Oakhill for a memorial service. On her way down the mountain, a torrential rainstorm hit. She took shelter under a wooden pavilion, which happened to be the exact spot where I was standing, waiting for the rain to pass. She stared at me in absolute shock for a long time. I stared right back. The reason was obvious. I looked exactly like her. Suspicion took root in her mind instantly. She hired private investigators, and the dark truth was dragged into the light. Oakhill was Mrs. Sinclair’s hometown. Twenty eight years ago, she and her husband had a massive argument, so she drove out to the country to clear her head. She was heavily pregnant at the time. The stress triggered early labor. It was a medical emergency, and she had to be rushed to a tiny, rundown local clinic. That same night, another pregnant woman went into labor at the exact same clinic. The rural hospital was incredibly underfunded and chaotic. There were no private VIP suites. The nurses were overwhelmed and exhausted. Somewhere in the madness of that stormy night, the name tags were accidentally swapped. Two infant girls lived completely different lives because of a piece of paper. Mrs. Sinclair and I took a DNA test. The results were undeniable. We were biological mother and daughter. After twenty eight years, the nurse who made the mistake had already passed away from illness. Mrs. Sinclair had nowhere to direct her grief and fury. All she could do was grip my hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “Harper, come home with mom. I swear I will make everything up to you.” Standing in the cracked pavement of my rundown apartment complex, looking at the fleet of luxury black SUVs idling behind her, I felt entirely numb. Just a month ago, I had been laid off during corporate cuts. I was stressing over how to pay rent. I was being humiliated by blind dates set up by distant relatives. And in the blink of an eye, I was the true heiress of the Sinclair empire. I was lucky in one regard. Even though my life was stolen, the working class couple who raised me were wonderful people. They never knew the truth, and they loved me as their own. But they died in a horrific car crash when I was just fourteen. I packed my meager belongings and followed Mrs. Sinclair back to the estate. I did separate DNA tests with every member of the family. Every single piece of paper confirmed the same thing. I was a Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair sighed heavily, his eyes full of regret. My biological brother, Preston, looked at me with deep pity. But it was the fake daughter, Mona, who stepped forward. She gently took my hands, her voice trembling with perfectly executed sobs. “I am so, so sorry. I stole twenty eight years of your life.” My mind drifted. Her skin was flawless and glowing. She moved with effortless elegance. Her eyes held that pure, untainted innocence of a girl who had never known a single day of struggle or hunger. Looking into her pupils, I saw the reflection of my own face. A face weathered and exhausted by years of grinding poverty. A sudden, crushing wave of humiliation washed over me. I pulled my hands out of her grip. She froze. The tears spilled over her cheeks even faster. My mother instantly threw her arms around Mona, holding her tight. “Oh, Mona, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault. You are completely innocent in this.” My father nodded in agreement. “Your mother is right. It was that careless nurse’s fault. Mona, you are too kind for your own good. Stop blaming yourself.” Preston chimed in, offering her gentle words of comfort. But Mona’s tears just wouldn’t stop falling. My mother’s heart broke seeing her cry. She cupped Mona’s face and cooed softly. “Listen to me. No matter what the blood tests say, you will always be my one and only precious baby girl.” Finally, Mona offered a watery, relieved smile. I stood perfectly still in the center of the room. The awkwardness was suffocating. I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong here. I felt like an intruder. A villain who had walked in and ruined their perfect, happy family. Later that evening, Mona’s husband, Liam, arrived. Liam was one of the most famous young billionaires in the city. Handsome, ruthless, and wealthy. Before his wedding, he constantly topped the city’s most eligible bachelor lists. After his wedding, he was praised by the media as the ultimate devoted husband. His face was completely devoid of warmth as he walked in. He immediately pulled Mona behind him, shielding her from me. His voice was like ice. “I know our grandfathers made a promise on paper decades ago. But the woman I married is Mona. I respect her, I love her, and my family will always be her shield. If you can accept reality and move on, I’ll write you a check big enough to set you up for life. But if you try to cause trouble for my wife, I promise you will regret it.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Mona and escorted her back to their own mansion. My mother took my hand, her expression sympathetic. “Mona and Liam grew up together. You can’t force love, Harper. You just have to let it go.” “I’m not holding onto anything,” I replied quietly. “It’s the modern world. People marry whoever they want.” Who in their right mind would actually care about some verbal contract made before they were born? I had spent my entire life just trying to survive. I genuinely did not have the energy to care about high society drama. My mother looked relieved. She immediately started her campaign to compensate me. She dragged me to country club luncheons, introducing me to her wealthy friends. She took me through the luxury boutiques on Fifth Avenue. She casually swiped her card on a handbag that cost more than I used to make in six months of brutal labor. When she decided my complexion looked too dull, she flew me out to a private clinic in Switzerland for high end aesthetic treatments. She hired a private nutritionist to manage my meals, telling me that a woman’s face was her greatest asset and required elite maintenance. Everything at the Sinclair estate was flawless. It was so perfect that I couldn’t even complain. She was acting exactly like a good, wealthy mother should. And just like any traditional wealthy mother, she decided I was getting too old to be single. She took it upon herself to arrange a high status marriage for me. That night, she sat in my room, excitedly detailing the profile of the man she had picked out. I stared at the blinding crystal chandelier above us, and all I felt was an aching nostalgia for the dim, cheap lighting of my old life. “Mom,” I said softly. “I don’t want to get married. Please, just let me go back to my apartment.” 02 She flat out refused. Her face tightened with sudden anger. “Go back to what apartment? This is your home!” She looked at me, deeply offended. “Harper, your father, your brother, and I are doing everything we can to make this right. Have we treated you badly? Are we not giving you enough?” A lump formed in my throat, choking off my words. Of course they were giving me things. But when I politely asked a maid to boil me a simple bowl of noodles, she smiled to my face. Five minutes later, I heard her whispering in the kitchen. “Does she actually think she’s the lady of the house? Making me cook her noodles like a peasant. A high school dropout playing pretend in a mansion. It’s pathetic. She’s not worth a single hair on Mona’s head.” When my mother ordered my limited edition handbag, the sales associate asked if she wanted the rare crocodile skin version delivered as well. My mother replied without hesitation. “No. I’ve been on the waitlist for that crocodile bag for six months. Save that one specifically for Mona.” When the kitchen staff asked her about my daily supplements. “Ma’am, should we prepare the private reserve Swiss tonics for Miss Harper today?” Her answer was casual. “No, keep the Swiss reserves for Mona. She’s pregnant, her body needs the absolute best. Give Harper the domestic brand. The quality is a bit lower, but it’s fine for her.” Were they treating me badly? They were giving me everything a rich daughter was supposed to have. But they would always, without fail, give the very best to Mona. If I pointed any of this out, I would just sound greedy and ungrateful. I stayed silent for a long time. My mother sighed, looking at me like I was a massive disappointment. “Fine. Just don’t say things like that anymore. It breaks our hearts! The man I arranged for you is Liam’s younger brother. He’s brilliant, self made, and incredibly successful. Marrying him will secure your future forever.” 03 I met Liam’s younger brother, Declan. His business acumen was just as terrifying as his older brother’s. Naturally, he was viewed by everyone as the ultimate, flawless catch. In my past life, men like him existed in a completely different universe. But right now, this man was sitting across from someone he clearly viewed as trash. He despised me. It was written all over his face. His posture was rigid, his expression freezing cold. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I already have a woman I care about. The only reason I am agreeing to marry you is to permanently eliminate a headache for her.” I thought about the family dynamics for a second. “The woman you care about… is Mona, isn’t it?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature in the room dropping. That confirmed it. He leaned back in his chair. “I came here today to set the rules. I will marry you. I can guarantee I won’t sleep around or publicly embarrass you. I will give you the respect and status of being my wife in public. But do not ever expect me to fulfill any actual marital duties. And understand this clearly. My family has already overcompensated you. If you harbor even a shred of malice toward Mona, I will destroy you.” Every word out of his mouth dripped with absolute arrogance. A brilliant, wealthy CEO was willing to sacrifice his own marriage just to ensure his beloved sister in law lived a peaceful, untroubled life. Everyone in this elite circle bent over backward to protect Mona. They would happily throw their own lives away to guarantee her happiness. It was honestly hilarious. He thought he could just dictate his own marriage, and dictate mine along with it. But I already had someone in my heart. A year ago, he jumped into a freezing lake to pull three drowning children to safety. He managed to push them onto the ice, but his own strength gave out. He sank to the bottom of the lake. He was gone. A bitter ache squeezed my chest. I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Declan, you really paint yourself as some kind of tragic hero. You think you’re making this massive, noble sacrifice. But what makes you think I have to accept whatever scraps you throw at me?” “What makes you think I even want you?” Declan froze, completely caught off guard. I stared him down. “I never planned on getting revenge on anyone. You’re willing to throw your life away for Mona, but I’m not playing your game. I reject your offer. If you really want to clear your conscience and settle debts, do me one favor. Look into your company records. You had an operations manager named Finn. See if he left any personal belongings in his desk before he died. If he did, send them to me.” 04 I made my stance explicitly clear. But Declan clearly didn’t believe me. He thought I was playing hard to get, which only deepened his disgust. I couldn’t care less. I went back to the Sinclair estate. The moment I walked through the doors, loud, cheerful laughter echoed from the living room. Mona had brought her fraternal twins over to visit her parents. The two beautifully dressed toddlers were giggling on my mother’s lap. My mother’s face was bright red with joy. When I walked in, Mona stiffened. But she quickly recovered, putting on a sweet smile and telling the kids to say hello to “Auntie Harper.” Mona gestured to a row of garment bags nearby. “Mom, those couture gowns you sent over are stunning. Your taste is flawless. I wore one to the gala last night, and everyone was asking about it. I know those designers have impossible waitlists.” My mother beamed with pride. “Of course, darling. The harder it is to get, the more my precious girl deserves it. Actually, your Aunt Victoria bought those in Paris. She sent them specifically as a welcome home gift for Harper. But to be honest, Harper doesn’t have the aura to pull them off yet. It would be a waste of good fabric. I knew they would look absolutely perfect on you.” Mona’s smile vanished instantly. The room fell into a dead silence. My mother suddenly realized what she had just confessed out loud. She turned to look at me, panic flashing in her eyes. Mona immediately started stammering apologies. She grabbed her kids and practically fled the house. When Preston came home later, he looked confused. “I just saw Mona pulling out of the driveway. Her eyes were completely red. Did someone say something to her?” He shot me a vicious glare. My mother awkwardly explained the situation with the dresses. Preston’s face relaxed, and he quickly jumped to defend my mother. “You made the right call, Mom. Mona is the only one who can do justice to those pieces. Giving them to Harper wouldn’t honor Aunt Victoria’s gift anyway.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’ll just have my assistant send over some regular seasonal clothes for Harper tonight.” Preston kept his word. A delivery arrived at my door that evening. But the timing was a disaster. At the exact same moment, a courier from the Thorne estate arrived. The courier handed me the pristine garment bags containing Aunt Victoria’s couture gowns. “Mrs. Thorne asked me to return these. She said she has already taken twenty eight years of your life, and she refuses to take a single thing more.” Before I could even reject the bags, the courier bowed and hurried away. I looked up and met Preston’s eyes. They were dark with absolute fury. That night, he completely lost his mind. He grabbed a pair of heavy fabric shears and violently shredded every single dress in the room. The ones he bought, and the ones Mona returned. He cut them all to ribbons. He pointed the scissors at me, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you have to fight her for every single thing?! A few pieces of fabric, and you have to make her feel guilty enough to return them? How can you be so incredibly selfish?!” I watched him throw his tantrum with dead eyes. A thirty year old man acting like a spoiled toddler. It was absurd. “I never asked for them,” I said flatly. “And I never accepted them.” “Stop lying!” he roared. “Mona is sensitive! If you hadn’t sat there looking pathetic and greedy, she never would have sent them back. You truly are just a classless, uneducated street rat!” He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. Downstairs, the maids quietly emerged to sweep up the shredded fabric. I stood alone in the center of my bedroom. I had survived twenty eight years of grinding poverty. I had swallowed hardships a million times worse than a rich boy’s temper tantrum. When my adoptive parents died, I spent countless nights crying in the dark because I couldn’t afford to finish high school. I didn’t have any tears left to cry. But looking down the long, empty hallway toward my parents’ master suite, a sharp needle of pain pierced my chest. Preston’s screaming had echoed through the entire house. They definitely heard him. But neither of them stepped out to stop him. Neither of them came to check on me. I looked out the window at the pale, cold moon. The night felt freezing. 05 The next morning, my mother felt a pang of guilt. She insisted on taking me to the luxury boutiques to buy me a whole new wardrobe. When we walked out of the store, chaos erupted. A sleek sports car suddenly lost control, blowing through a red light and hurtling straight toward a little boy crossing the street. Without a single thought, I dropped my bags, sprinted across the asphalt, tackled the kid, and rolled us both hard into the thick bushes of the median. The boy burst into terrified tears. Thankfully, he didn’t have a single scratch. My back, however, felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I knew my spine was covered in massive, deep purple bruises. The panicked parents rushed over, thanking me profusely. I waved them off, wincing as I stood up. When I raised my head, I saw Declan stepping out of a black Bentley parked by the curb. His eyes were incredibly dark, flashing with genuine shock. He slowly walked over to me. His voice was entirely different from our first meeting. “That was incredibly brave.” I didn’t have the patience to deal with him. I turned to walk away, but his hand clamped down on my wrist. He stared at me for a long time. The sunlight hit his back, casting his face in shadow, but his eyes were burning with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “You’re bleeding.” I looked down. My entire forearm was scraped raw and bleeding heavily. I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. “Mind your own business.” Despite my rejection, Declan showed up at the Sinclair estate that evening. He brought a highly sought after private orthopedic specialist to examine my injuries. My mother was absolutely thrilled. Her attitude toward me immediately softened. She sat on my bed and told me that Aunt Victoria was flying back from Europe next week. Aunt Victoria ran the family’s international branches, and the family was throwing a massive welcome banquet for her. Aunt Victoria was a terrifyingly successful businesswoman. She was actually more brilliant than my father. But my grandparents were old fashioned and believed the empire should be inherited by a male heir, so they left her with a much smaller percentage of shares. Thankfully, she and my father had a strong bond. For decades, the siblings had ruthlessly defended the company together. “Being a career woman is exhausting,” my mother sighed. “Mona used to want to join the board. She even went to London for her MBA. But after one year at the headquarters, she was so drained she quit. She decided focusing on her family and her marriage was better. And your brother… well, he’s the heir, so he has no choice. If he could, he’d probably prefer Mona’s lifestyle too.” I tuned out her voice. What was wrong with being a powerful woman like Aunt Victoria? Every time I saw female executives on the news, I felt a deep, burning admiration. But I also knew reality. Admiration didn’t magically grant you the skills or the power to sit in those boardrooms. I was a high school dropout. The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me drowning in shame. 06 The night of Aunt Victoria’s banquet, the entire New York elite showed up. When Aunt Victoria saw me, her sharp eyes immediately softened with tears. She had already been briefed on everything. She took both of my hands in hers and looked at me deeply. “You have survived so much pain.” Just hearing those words, my throat locked up. My eyes burned. She squeezed my hands. “You are incredibly strong.” Out in the main ballroom, Mona and Liam walked arm in arm. They were instantly surrounded by a crowd of admirers, looking like absolute royalty. My parents were busy showing off Mona’s twins to their wealthy friends. No one spared a single glance for me. It felt like I was genetically programmed to be shoved into the dark, invisible corners of every room. But Aunt Victoria saw me. She pulled me aside and talked to me for over an hour. Halfway through the night, my mother finally remembered I existed. She walked over, dragging the twins by the hands, and told me to play with them. She said we needed to bond as a family. I felt absolutely nothing for those kids. I awkwardly patted their heads, made an excuse, and walked out to the pool terrace to get some fresh air. After standing in the cool breeze for a while, I went inside to use the restroom. When I walked back out to the terrace, pure chaos had erupted. The little girl twin had fallen into the deep end of the pool. Fortunately, she was pulled out immediately. Right now, she was shivering and screaming in Mona’s arms. My mother was frantic. “What the hell happened?! Weren’t the maids watching them? How did she fall in?!” The adults’ panicked shouting terrified the little boy twin. He started sobbing uncontrollably. Then, he pointed a trembling finger right at me. “It was Auntie Harper! Auntie Harper pushed her into the water!” Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, my mother’s hand cracked across my face.

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My system gave me one job: save the brooding male lead. He was a gorgeous wealthy heir, sent abroad young. But a car crash had left him paralyzed, turning him bitter, cynical, and desperately starved for affection. Luckily, I suffered from a severe savior complex. I spent three years giving him unconditional warmth, taking care of him so thoroughly I practically babied him back into the womb. But the moment I showed up with a bouquet to confess my feelings, he threw the flowers straight into the trash. His voice dripped with mockery. “Stop acting. I’ve been able to hear your conversations with your system this entire time.” “Did you really think I loved you? The only difference between you and those gold diggers is that you’re free.” Watching my stunned expression, he let out a cold, sharp laugh. “What? You’re allowed to play me, but I’m not allowed to play you?” I was quiet for a few seconds. Then, I gave him a soft, accepting smile. “It’s okay. If you felt even a single second of happiness over these past three years, then our meeting had meaning.” “It doesn’t matter if the mission failed. I’ll just find someone else to romance. Take care of yourself, Henry. Goodbye.” Ignoring his frozen expression, I logged out and left his world. 1 Six months later, I saw Henry again. The system informed me that I had to romance him a second time. He was sitting in his wheelchair, clutching a bottle of hard liquor, smelling like an absolute distillery. His strikingly handsome features were utterly ruined by exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot. Standing in front of him, I couldn’t help but sigh. People who have never been loved don’t know how to love others, and they certainly don’t know how to love themselves. I soaked a towel in warm water and walked over to his side. Taking the bottle from his grip, I gently wiped the grime and alcohol from his face and hands. He opened his eyes, glaring at me with a wild, feral hostility. “I told you all to get the hell…” His voice cut off instantly. He blinked, staring at me as if looking at a ghost. Tears spilled from his beautiful, hollow eyes, chasing each other down his cheeks. In the span of a heartbeat, his silent weeping broke into a violent, sobbing wail. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in my stomach. “I thought you abandoned me,” he choked out between sobs. “Why did you come back?” I hesitated for a mere two seconds before his voice spiked, cracking with a desperate, ragged edge. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Paige, what is this supposed to mean?” “Talk to me! Say something! Please, say something!” He was completely wasted. If he were sober, his stubborn pride and tangled ego would never have allowed him to show me this kind of vulnerability. But there was no point trying to reason with a drunk. I reached out and stroked his hair, using the same endless patience I had shown him a thousand times before. “I didn’t abandon you.” “Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.” His body stiffened. Then, he clung to me even tighter, crying like a child. In my mind, the system whispered, Host, I know I usually call you a bleeding heart, but this is next-level martyrdom. He wasted three whole years of our lives. Have you already forgotten the horrible things he said to you last time? I kept running my fingers through Henry’s hair, replying to the system in my head. “I haven’t forgotten. But does it really matter?” “Once the mission is done, we won’t ever see each other again. Why waste energy holding a grudge against a temporary passenger in my life?” The system went quiet. I helped Henry into bed and cleaned up his messy bedroom. Only when I was finished did the system speak up again. Host, I honestly can’t tell if you’re a saint or just completely cold-blooded. This second run has two objectives. You need to max out both his affection meter and his regret meter. That means you don’t just have to make him fall madly in love with you, you also have to make him suffer through agonizing regret. Are you sure you can pull this off? 2 Henry was my first target. He came from a wealthy family, but his parents both had their own secret lovers and never gave him a shred of warmth. Before he could even speak English properly, he was shipped off to boarding school across the ocean. The only people around him were hired nannies, drivers, and bodyguards. Just as he survived a chaotic childhood, a car accident shattered his legs at the age of ten. During our three years together, I poured every ounce of my energy into him. Because he was deeply insecure, I made sure to reply to his messages instantly. Rain or shine, I always showed up right on time. Because he starved for care, I took over his cooking, cleaning, and daily life, constantly monitoring his physical and emotional health. I used to think the fleeting softness in his eyes meant he was being touched by my devotion. But I was wrong. He had known the truth from the very beginning. “Did you really think I loved you? The only difference between you and those gold diggers is that you’re free.” Yet, I didn’t hate him for those wasted years. When we parted last time, my words had been entirely genuine. “It’s okay. If you felt even a single second of happiness over these past three years, then our meeting had meaning.” I could still picture his stunned, pale face from that day. That was why I knew, without a doubt, that this second attempt would succeed. 3 I slept on the sofa in Henry’s living room that night. Even though it was just a couch, it was far more comfortable than most beds, and I managed a solid eight hours of sleep. In my dreams, the system kept rambling about how it had patched the audio bug so Henry could no longer hear our thoughts. It insisted we had to succeed this time. When I opened my eyes, I saw Henry sitting in his wheelchair, his eyes red and swollen, staring down at me blankly. I sat up, greeting him naturally. “Morning. What are you in the mood for? I can whip up some breakfast.” Henry’s voice was freezing. “What are you doing in my house?” I grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge to help soothe his puffy eyes. His body tensed when I pressed it to his face, but he didn’t pull away. “My system mentioned you weren’t doing too well. I thought you might need me, so I came back to check on you.” Henry gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his gaze turning mocking. “Don’t flatter yourself. Me, need you? Who do you think you are?” “Just because you spent three years acting like a desperate lapdog doesn’t mean you’re actually my girlfriend.” My hands paused. I placed the cold bottle on his lap. Without a single word, I turned and walked toward the front door. Behind me, a heavy thud echoed. In his panic to stop me, he had forgotten he couldn’t walk and had tumbled out of his chair. I immediately turned back to help him up. His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment as he snarled, “Get off me! I don’t need your…” The system groaned in my head. Host, you really drew the short straw with this guy. He’s a nightmare. What kind of sweet talk are you going to use to pacify him this time? I hoisted Henry back into his wheelchair and answered the system. “No sweet talk. He told me to get lost, so I’m getting lost.” 4 I stood before Henry, looking down at him with a soft, gentle gaze. “Yesterday you blamed me for leaving you. I thought you really needed me, but I guess that was just the alcohol talking.” “I’m sorry, Henry. I lied to you for three years, and now I’m back here bothering you again.” I gently smoothed out his wrinkled collar, turned around, and walked toward the exit once more. But I had barely taken a step before I felt a heavy tug. Henry had grabbed the hem of my jacket, gripping it so hard the veins on the back of his hand bulged. I turned back, wearing a look of mild confusion. “Is something wrong?” Henry ground his teeth, struggling for a long moment before muttering, “Who said you could leave?” I gently pried his fingers off my jacket. “You did. Didn’t you just tell me to get lost?” He choked on his words, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red. The silence stretched between us for another thirty seconds before I finally spoke. “If you want me to stay, you have to be honest with me.” “Tell me you missed me, that you need me, and ask me to stay.” Henry’s expression soured even further. To bow his head, to swallow his pride, and to utter such vulnerable words to a liar like me was agonizing for him. But as his eyes fell on my retreating figure, he finally forced the words out. “I… I missed you. And I need you.” “Please stay and keep me company. Are you happy now?” It was a simple plea, but to him, it seemed more humiliating than begging on his knees. He stared at me with bloodshot eyes, looking as if he would drag us both to the grave if I dared refuse. I held his gaze for a few seconds. Then, I reached out and gently ran my fingers through his hair. Leaning down, I wrapped my arms around him. His body went rigid, but then he greedily tightened his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck and breathing me in. “I’m glad you told me the truth, Henry.” “You were drunk yesterday, so you probably forgot what I said.” “I told you, I didn’t abandon you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.” It was a beautifully crafted, utterly empty promise. Yet hearing it made Henry hold me even tighter. The system suddenly squealed in my head. Host! The progress bar moved! Finally! How is this possible? He knows you’re just playing a game! I gently stroked Henry’s cheek. His eyelashes fluttered as he bit his lip, subconsciously leaning his face into my palm. It was a familiar gesture. The stray dogs I used to feed back home would nuzzle my hand the exact same way. Feeling the warmth against my palm, I took a moment to reply to the system. “Maybe because, outside of me, nobody has ever given him this much affection and security.” “So what if he knows it’s fake?” The system went silent. And Henry, suddenly realizing how pathetic he must look, pulled back and fell silent too. 5 He pushed me away, though he didn’t dare utter another word about making me leave. “Paige, I know you only came back for your mission,” he said, his voice flat. “But since you’re here, you might as well play your part.” He pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message to someone. A moment lator, he looked up at me, his eyes full of deliberate provocation. “My girlfriend is coming over for dinner tonight. Get things ready.” I nodded smoothly. “Of course. Could you ask her what she likes to eat?” Henry was clearly annoyed by my calm reaction. He scowled and muttered, “Whatever.” I didn’t let his dismissive attitude stop me. I drove to the grocery store, bought a variety of fresh ingredients, and spent the afternoon preparing a lavish spread. Around twilight, there was a knock at the door. A beautiful girl stood on the threshold, holding a bouquet of red roses. I offered her a polite nod, hung up my apron, and walked out the door. The weather in this city was always lovely. I found a quiet outdoor café, ordered an iced Americano, and sat on the patio, watching the world go by. The warm afternoon sun gradually dipped below the horizon, and the air grew cool as darkness settled over the streets. My system, which had gone quiet for a while, suddenly chimed in and panicked. Host, what are you doing? Why aren’t you going back to keep an eye on them? They might be making out right now! Men are fickle creatures. If he moves on, we’re screwed! I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry.” I pulled out my phone and switched it on. Instantly, a barrage of notifications flooded my screen. They were all from Henry. [Are you seriously gone? You didn’t even bother to say goodbye?] [What is your problem? You’re throwing a tantrum just because my girlfriend came over? Who do you think you are?] [Why aren’t you replying? Stop acting so cold.] [????] [Answer me.] [Pick up the phone.] [I told you to pick up the phone!] […Did you turn your phone off?] The system was dumbfounded. What is wrong with him? “He’s always been like this,” I replied. The system argued, No way! He’s usually the ice king! I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “He only had the luxury of being the ice king because I used to reply to him within seconds.” My iced Americano had melted to room temperature. I finished the last sip and walked back to Henry’s apartment. Even though I expected a scene, I still winced slightly when I opened the door. The place was a disaster. The dining table was overturned, food splattered all over the floor. Every piece of glassware had been shattered to pieces. Henry sat in his wheelchair, his face pale with rage, gripping his phone. His right hand was bleeding heavily from a deep cut caused by a shard of glass. I set my bag down on the console table and walked over to him, frowning. “What happened here?” “I was only gone for a couple of hours. How did you manage to do this to yourself?” 6 Henry looked up at me, his entire frame trembling with rage. “Where…” he spat through clenched teeth, “where the hell did you go? Why was your phone off?” “I was just sitting at a café, having a drink,” I answered honestly. “As for my phone, it must have turned off by accident.” Henry suddenly hurled his phone against the floor, shattering it completely. “Who gave you permission to turn it off? Who said you could ignore my messages?” I let out a soft sigh and leaned down to look him in the eyes. “Why are you so worked up? Are you really that afraid of me ignoring you?” “If you are, you need to say it. I can’t read your mind.” Henry wasn’t stupid. He caught on immediately. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight and angry. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I ignored his question. “I’ll say it again.” “If you’re afraid of me leaving, of me ignoring you, you have to tell me.” Henry glared at me, his eyes burning with something close to hatred. “Paige… you…” But as the silence stretched between us, his anger slowly dissolved, replaced by a raw, fragile panic. Finally, after nearly three minutes of quiet, his defenses crumbled. “Fine! Yes, I’m terrified of you leaving! I’m terrified of you ignoring me! Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?” I retrieved the first-aid kit, sat on the sofa beside him, and began to clean and bandage his bleeding hand. Only when I felt his tense muscles start to relax did I speak. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose, Henry.” “But you have a girlfriend now. I have to respect her and keep a proper distance, don’t I?” Henry’s fingers tightened around mine. “No.” I looked at him, feigning confusion. “No what?” “She… she isn’t my girlfriend,” he muttered, looking away. “I paid her to come over just to make you jealous.” Perhaps because he had already thrown away his dignity, confessing this didn’t seem to bother him as much. I let out a gasp of surprise. “You really are something… Since when did you become so childish?” I reached out and softly patted his head. “How about this, Henry? From now on, whenever you text me, just tell me honestly that you miss me.” “If you do, I promise to reply instantly. I won’t make you wait even a second. Deal?” Having endured so many blows to his pride in a single day, Henry didn’t agree immediately. I didn’t press him. I called a cleaning service to sweep up the wreckage of the apartment. Later that night, after Henry had gone to bed, I slipped out of the apartment to take a walk in the courtyard downstairs. The system was buzzing excitedly in my head. Host! I am never calling you a saint again. You are absolutely devious! But the progress bar didn’t move today. Are you tossing and turning because of that? I smiled. “Don’t worry. The progress will come.” If you say so, the system mumbled. About twenty minutes later, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out. It was a message from Henry. [Where are you?] [It’s late. Where did you go?] I stared at the screen, intentionally leaving him on read. A minute later, another text popped up. [I miss you. Please text me back.] 7 I didn’t hesitate. I replied instantly: [I’m just getting some fresh air downstairs, sweetie. I’m on my way back up now.] The system was silent for several seconds before letting out a gasp as the progress bar ticked upward. I headed back upstairs. Henry was sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed. When he saw me walk through the door, his shoulders visibly dropped in relief. I walked over to him and gently cupped his face. “I was just taking a stroll. Don’t be scared.” “I’ll always be by your side.” Henry stared at me for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, he violently slapped my hand away. “Don’t you get sick of hearing yourself talk?” “You act like you’re completely devoted to me, like you actually care. But it’s all for your stupid mission!” “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re training me like a dog, and you love seeing me like this, don’t you?” He glared at me, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. He was waiting for me to deny it. But as the silence dragged on, that hope slowly curdled into bitter resentment. “Stop looking at me with those fake, pitying eyes!” “Do you really think I’d die without you? Don’t think so highly of yourself!” He turned his back to me, burying himself under the covers. But right at that moment, the system chimed with a sudden sub-mission. Sub-mission triggered: Make the target say “I love you” within 24 hours. Failure will result in an electric shock penalty. Given the timing, I was convinced the main system was doing this purely to torment me.

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